


Bend it

by NRGburst



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon Divergence - Tourney at Harrenhal, Cinderella Elements, Class Differences, Crossover, F/M, Gendry is a Baratheon, King Robert is an idiot, Minor Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, R Plus L Equals J, Rivals to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NRGburst/pseuds/NRGburst
Summary: Arya's a Waterbender, Gendry's an Earthbender, and they're about to meet in the Great Benders Tournament in Ba Sing Se.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 109
Kudos: 201





	1. Bend it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyrawhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawhite/gifts).



> For lyrawhite, whose consistent messages nudged me out of my Gendrya slump! Love you girl, and I hope this hits the spot! *mwah*
> 
> The fanart that inspired this fic is [here](https://sabotensan.tumblr.com/post/95022575948/yukimonsters-earthmetal-bender-gendry).
> 
> My understanding of bending is based mostly on AtLA (with reference to GoT/ASoIaF lineages), so if you have criticisms based on lore from LoK, I apologize in advance!  
> You can watch Avatar: The Last Airbender on Netflix, and I highly recommend it! Such a great show for both kids and adults, and so ahead of its time. <3 The episode most relevant to this fic is S214 _City of Walls and Secrets_ , but I've tried to include the relevant worldbuilding so watching isn't a prerequisite to reading. I've also crossed over some place names, but I think it still makes sense WRT to the AtLA universe.

As a Stark of the Northern Water Tribe, Arya isn't used to the full on assault on her senses that comes with walking into the Outer Ring of Ba Sing Se. Like everybody else, she knows that the city's craftsmen and laborers are relegated to this part of the immense Earth Kingdom city. The people sport faded, dirty and patched clothing, a sharp contrast to the glittering, cutting edge fashions of the Middle and Upper Rings just a train ride away. But she hadn't expected the _smell_ , though the noise and close quarters she can deal with.

Her eyes water and she stifles the urge to gag. She's a Stark. She will comport herself appropriately or Sansa will never let her hear the end of it. Besides, she's here for a reason: rumor says the strongest qualifying Earthbender works in this part of the city, as a smith.

  
  


Because he can _metalbend_.

  
  


Arya just has to see this guy for herself before facing him in the ring. She’s gotten her measure of all the others, even the Targaryens from the Fire Nation, since they’ve all been quartered in villas in the Upper Ring. And she thinks she can at least _match_ everybody in terms of power, strategy and speed. Sure, the Targaryens might be able to burn water whips to mere steam, but she's got enough ice mastery that she's pretty confident she'll make it to the second round, at least. That Viserys struck her as all flashy flourishes and hot air anyway, although she really hopes she doesn't have to go up against Daenerys in the first round. And Shireen has that sheer raw Baratheon power, but she's always preferred books over practicing bending so Arya's sure she can physically outlast her, even if she _is_ an Earthbender. She just has to be calm as still water until Shireen tires. The Greyjoys and Arryns are also strong bending families, but she's faced Yara and Robin enough over the years to know what to expect.

  
  


This Gendry is a mystery, though the nasty delight that comes with gossip about him makes Arya want to roll her eyes.

  
  


Ba Sing Se nobles are the _worst_.

  
  


They're also woefully short on facts about what this guy can actually _do_ , stupidly preoccupied by the wicked, scandalous possibility that this Gendry is likely one of the Earth King's bastards, and living right under the nose of his noble family.

Arya couldn't care less about _how_ this guy's a bender. She just wants to see him in action before she has to take him on.

After all, the honor of House Stark is going to be on her. Sansa had worked hard to qualify, but only so she could have an excuse to come to Ba Sing Se. She's spent the whole trip socializing and shopping: hanging on Margaery Tyrell's every word, getting fitted into the latest Earth Kingdom fashions and learning Queen Cersei's hairstyles. She doesn't care if she gets knocked out of the competition in the first round- she's mostly in this to investigate marriage prospects and buy things they can't easily get in the North: silks, spices and fine Earth Kingdom china.

“ _I'm playing the long game. You'd be wise to do the same, or you'll end up stuck in the dreary old North forever like Aunt Lyanna.”_

“ _I like the North and so does Nymeria. 'Sides, I won't be stuck anywhere if I win that prize money,” Arya had pointed out, and Sansa had pursed her lips and conceded._

So she scans the signs as she struggles through the people and wagons clogging the streets. Even in the Outer Ring there are an incredible variety of shops compared to their communities up North. It still boggles her that there is competition for every kind of commodity, whether it be for compasses, cotton or cabbages. And the smith in question, at a place called Mott's, is supposed to be on the Street of Steel- _a whole street_ of smiths to shop for armor and weapons.

Arya can hardly wait to see it all. She just wishes Jon could have come too.

She misses him and Nymeria terribly. It just isn't fair that his mother forbade him from even entering the qualifying rounds, although she understands perfectly well why.

And as amazing as it is, being able to see the majestic grandeur of Ba Sing Se and its wondrously efficient rail system transporting people and goods around; the sheer variety of new foods, colorful people and entertainments, she misses home. She can't wait to breathe clean air again; hunt with Jon and Ghost and Nymeria; pole a longboat down familiar icy canals and get away from this constant seething crowd of humanity. Having to always be aware of which nobles are feuding or friends and how to dodge agendas and loaded topics grates on her last nerve, though Sansa and Father seem to navigate those treacherous waters like they're born to it.

Arya's delighted to leave them to it and pretend to shop today- _she's here to bend_.

And her eyes narrow like a wolf's, her feet stepping more quickly (but still quietly) once she hears the sound of hammers on steel, sees the gleam of polished shields and armor on display.

* * *

Another day, another long list of orders.

Gendry doesn't mind- all the extra work is as good as practice, and Mott's shop has only gotten more since his now infamous performance in the qualification trials. His master had been begrudging with permission to attend the qualifying rounds –hadn't wanted him off a day or two if he got injured, which was a valid enough worry, but Gendry had figured that he could hold his own.

With the sharp upswing in custom, Mott's not been grumbling about being proven wrong at all.

The rumors he tries to ignore. Not like he rubs shoulders with nobles, or even knows what the Earth King looks like. That Shireen Baratheon had been amazing at the qualifiers, but he's just got more stamina, even if her control and crystal work is impressive, especially for someone just old enough to qualify.

It's funny- he's always been able to Earthbend, and never thought a thing about it. Plenty of Earthbenders in Ba Sing Se after all, working the trains and transporting goods and operating the city gates. Bending just saves time and is a lot more efficient and precise. And since he could always _feel_ the metal he was working with the same way he sensed and moved ore and coal, he'd just assumed what he could do was normal.

How was he to know Metalbending was a rare talent? He'd heard the story of how the Earth King defeated the Fire Prince by crushing his chest inside his armor with a single, furious bending move –-they'd all heard it-- but he'd figured it was just part of being an Earthbender.

Apparently not. People speculate Baratheon Metalbending has something to do with latent ancestry- some think it's because there were Targaryen ancestors along the way, others think they descend from the gods.

Gendry's pretty sure it's all bullshit.

But it makes him wonder, a little. His mum had been a tavern serving girl, and it's far more likely that she'd got him off some soldier or merchant paying the extra for “a bit of fun”, not someone with a rich, noble pedigree like the King. Most of those only deign to go so far as the Middle Ring- servants fetch things from the Outer Ring if needed.

It doesn't matter anyway- Upper Ring denizens might as well be living above the clouds in the Eyrie with how isolated their lives are from the majority of those who live and work in Ba Sing Se. The prize money –-and it's more money than he's ever dreamed of-- is all he's really after, and he's sure the spotlight will disappear as fast as it appeared after the tournament.

Which is why he's surprised when a squadron of the Dai Li, faces hidden in the shadows of their uniforms, march into the shop.

Master Mott immediately hurries up front and bows to the noble they're escorting- a tall, serious man with a well groomed beard and mustache who looks around with thinly disguised contempt. The pin he wears indicates that he's not just any noble- he's Lord Tywin Lannister, Grand Secretariat of Ba Sing Se, and the second most powerful man in the city.

What the hell is he doing here? The rich always send their masters of arms to bargain on the Street of Steel. Unless...

“Gendry! Come here!” Mott calls urgently, beckoning.

_Aw, shit._

Gendry places the blade he was tempering back into the forge, wipes his hands on his smith's apron, and then approaches with his head bowed, eyeing Lord Lannister warily.

The Grand Secretariat's eyes widen slightly with surprise for an instant before his expression goes back to cold and commanding. “Well, well. So you're Gendry. I hear you're a talented Earthbender.”

“Yes, milord. Did well enough at the qualifying trials for the tournament. Will be proud to represent the Earth Kingdom and Ba Sing Se.”

“Indeed. Some called you a prodigy when they witnessed what they believed to be Metalbending.”

Gendry shrugs uncomfortably. “Not a prodigy just because I can Metalbend. I'm a smith- been working steel since I was a boy. That's got to have more to do with it than what random people I don't even know are saying.”

Tywin smiles approvingly. “...You're a skeptic. I appreciate a healthy skepticism- people often fabricate lies to further their own agendas and discredit unpalatable truths. Therefore I have always preferred facts. _Proof._ So I would like it if you could demonstrate some of your Metalbending talent for me. I can pay handsomely for a commission as compensation. And if your bending is as powerful as rumor touts, I can assure you there will be a place in the Dai Li for you even if you don't end up winning the grand prize in the tournament. We only recruit the most talented benders for our ranks.”

Mott's head snaps up abruptly, his mouth opening to protest before he thinks better of it and jerks his head at Gendry to comply.

The faster he gets on with it, the faster they can get back to work. And hopefully not get hauled off to Lake Laogai.

“...You want the signature, then?”

Lord Lannister frowns slightly. “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

“What everybody orders from us. Blades that look and cut like Valyrian steel.”

Lord Tywin Lannister goes perfectly still. And when he smiles Gendry suddenly understands why House Lannister adopted lions as their standard.

“My dear boy, nothing would please me more.”

* * *

Arya doesn't hurry into Tobho Mott's shop- there are too many beautifully made pieces to look at on the Street of Steel and she makes a note of ones that catch her eye, making non-committal noises when the shopkeepers push the fine bargains to be had in their shops, their shrewd eyes having already assessed the fine materials and construction of her clothing and shoes. She always prefers getting a complete idea of her options before deciding.

There are also two Dai Li standing lookout outside of Mott's, and she knows better than to interfere with whatever official operation they're on-- maybe they're doing an arrest.

But they leave soon enough-- and Arya frowns when she realizes that Lord Tywin himself is striding among them.

That can't be good.

She mulls over the possible implications as they move crisply back towards the train station, the crowd on the street parting nervously before them. But since there's nothing she can really do besides file the information away for reference, she steps inside once she's sure the coast is clear.

It's dark, cavernous and uncomfortably warm, the walls lined with displays of breastplates and shields with racks of helms, spears and swords under them like the other shops. Unlike the others, the forge at the back is roaring and pumping out heat, and there's a young man working on a sword at the anvil.

Her eyes widen.

The gossips had delighted in pointing out how much Gendry had looked like the Earth King, so she'd been mentally drawing a picture of some fat, lazy brute with a ruddy complexion and an overloud laugh.

He's got thick, black hair and piercingly blue eyes like the king, and he's tall. But that's where the resemblance ends.

He doesn't have an extra ounce of fat on him, which highlights just how muscular he is- especially as he hammers the red-hot blade, focused and relentless until he straightens, satisfied, and sets down his hammer carefully. He's handsome, even if he's covered in sweat and coal dust and his lips are chapped from breathing hard. Her mouth falls open involuntarily when he reaches out, bending, sending a new cluster of coal into the open mouth of the forge before expertly turning the red hot coals inside with a twist of his hand, sending sparks flying across the floor.

She doesn't know what she finds more disturbing- that King Robert might have looked like this once upon a time, or that she's just realized how enthralled she's been when their eyes meet.

“...Can I help you? You lost?” Gendry calls, brow furrowed.

Arya blinks and shakes her head. “No, I- I'm trying to find-” Arya quickly seizes on a plausible excuse, an idea that had been forming as she browsed. “-I'd like a sword for my cousin. Something our local smith can't make.”

Gendry gives her a better look and then it's his turn to blink with surprise. “You're from one of the Water Tribes?”

Arya lifts her chin. The blue shades of her clothing are a dead giveaway- maybe she should have borrowed something of Shireen's. Might have helped lower the prices she was quoted earlier, too. “The Northern Water Tribe, yes.”

Gendry nods and gestures around the shop. “Normally Master Mott does all the sales talk. He's just left to get our midday meal though- feel free to look around in the meantime, if you like.” He puts the blade back in the forge and strides over to the side to get himself a dipperful of water. Arya watches him drink as she pretends to glance through the rack of swords, all too aware of the trickle of water that runs down his Adam's apple and down his chest behind his smith's apron.

She gives him a puzzled look. “You don't mind forging during the hottest part of the day? Our smith likes to do his work in the evenings, so the residual heat can linger at night in the winter, and so he doesn't keel over from the heat in summer.”

Gendry wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugs. “ Got a list of people waiting on commissions for our blades- if you're going to leave town soon and can't wait, I can recommend most places up the street 'cept Dylan's. We all use good Earth Kingdom ores and finishing techniques.”

Arya tilts her head curiously. “What's wrong with Dylan's?”

Gendry lifts a shoulder and gives his head a dismissive shake. “Cores of his blades always feel too brittle. Snap too easily. Gets cold where you're from, yeah? That'll make a broken blade even more likely. Make sure you get one with more flexibility.”

Arya nods slowly. “Thanks for the advice. So how long would the wait be? I'd like it tapered, maybe a hand and a half long.”

Gendry raises a brow. “Bastard length?”

Arya lifts a shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Started as a stupid joke, but he just got used to it. Prefers the extra length to keep out of people's reach.”

Gendry tilts his head, considering. “A week or two? Would be faster normally, but I'll be in the Benders Tournament, so Master Mott can only do guards and pommels while I'm competing, since the blades take both of us to forge.”

Arya lowers her eyes guiltily and Gendry's brow furrows again, his eyes finding the flask attached to her belt. “...But then you knew that already, didn't you?”

He just glares at her accusingly for a moment before he suddenly flicks the rest of the water from the dipper at her.

And it's simple reflex, borne of life among Waterbender siblings- her fingers and body immediately redirecting the water into a streamlined flow that she whirls right back to smack him in the face.

Her mouth drops open when he changes posture just as quickly, crouching lower to the ground and bending some sort of rusty rock from the bin on the side to take the impact.

The water splashes against it harmlessly and when she doesn't scoop it up to try to hit him again, he lowers the rock with a scowl, though he's still braced to bend again. “...Checking out the competition, huh?”

Arya shrugs unrepentantly and explains. “Everybody else is quartered in the Upper Ring. And you did so well in the qualifiers that all the nobles are talking about you.” She pauses. “Well, that and-”

Gendry cuts her off, glowering. “-Yeah, I know what they're saying. Never even met him, so I think it's a pile of slag.”

Arya deliberately hugs herself in the universal bender gesture of ceasefire, meeting his accusing stare. “I really am looking for a present for my cousin,” she offers apologetically. “Figured it was two fish in one net.”

Gendry blinks. “Is that what Water Tribers say? Not two birds with one stone?” He eases out of bending stance, obviously curious despite himself. “Do all Water Tribe girls know so much about swords? Thought you lot were healers.”

Arya gives him a tentative smile- he seems more reluctantly impressed than actually upset. “Some are healers, some are fighters, some are both. There are a lot of predators up north, so it's just practical. Don't girls learn to fight with blades here? Surely they can't all be benders.”

Gendry shakes his head, shrugging. “Naw. We'd have a lot more business if they did though, I guess.”

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out deliberately, Gendry gestures wearily at the swords on display. “I need to get back to work, but feel free to check the balance and grip on any of these. Like I said, our signature Valyrian steel-like swords have a bit of a wait, but in my opinion, they're worth it. Lighter heft and keeps a keener edge than most anything else out there. And since Old Valyria sank and all, we're the only ones making anything like them.”

Arya's mouth falls open.

“...Valyrian steel? You're _serious?_ With the blades that look like ripples of water?!”

Gendry gives her a smug smile. “Wouldn't joke about my work. Here.”

He walks over to a locked cabinet and takes out a finely crafted dagger to show her, turning it in the light. “This was a commission, and therefore not for sale, but you can see the ripples- folded steel, that, in fine layers so the blade is flexible and yet still hard enough to cut bone. Master Mott learned to smith in the Fire Nation- he's handled real Valyrian steel before. And he says what I make with Metalbending is just as good. Even if he's puffing it up a bit for sales, I promise it's well-forged steel and should last you a lifetime. Pretty enough for a present too, I'd wager- _if_ you can afford it. Bet Mott will raise the price once the Grand Secretariat gets his commission,” he warns, but she can see the pride in his eyes.

Arya nods, rapt. “...It's _beautiful_. May I?”

It's got a perfect balance and a wicked edge, and the hilt fits perfectly in her hands.

Sansa was right, after all- the shopping in Ba Sing Se alone was worth the trip. She can hardly believe how light it is, as if it isn't steel at all.

She beams at him when she hands it back. “Well, I'm sold. And I should be able to afford one when I win the tournament.”

Gendry's eyes widen and he huffs a disbelieving laugh. “... _When?_ How can someone so small be so big for her britches?”

Arya smiles calmly. “You don't know how quick I am.”

“Well, you don't know how strong I am.”

She raises a brow at him teasingly. “I've got an idea now, though.”

Gendry glares. “Well- same!” he declares.

She grins, unrepentant. “We'll just have to see then, won't we? You coming to the tournament banquet tonight? You can get a look at the others, then, too. There'll be loads of stuck up nobles with snippy questions, but the food is actually really good.”

Gendry gives her a look of sheer disbelief and scoffs, looking away. “...Because I have something to wear to _an actual banquet_ in the Upper Ring? Naw, I'll be working, same as always.”

She blinks, flushing. “Oh. Sorry. I hadn't thought about that.”

She looks away, feeling stupid while he locks up the dagger again, scowling.

“...Not your fault,” he says finally.

She scuffs her foot against the ground awkwardly. “...Well, if you could put Arya Stark down on your list for _two_ blades, I promise House Stark will be good for it ...even if it takes all my winnings and delays our trip home.”

To her relief, that gets an exasperated smile out of Gendry, and he shakes his head. “You're unbelievable, Arya Stark. Fine. I'll tell Mott to put you on the list after Lord Lannister.”

She frowns and hesitates, remembering the Grand Secretariat and the Dai Li striding away- her father had explicitly warned them about the Lannisters. _“The Grand Secretariat may be a non-bender, but he holds the real power in Ba Sing Se --and possibly the Earth Kingdom itself. You mind your tongue, always- even the walls have ears in the city. His Dai Li agents patrol constantly and we're not risking another war because of a tournament.”_

But she lifts her chin anyway. “Listen, Gendry. ...You know the Grand Secretariat's daughter is Queen Cersei, right? And therefore his grandchildren are in line for the crown. None of them are decent benders, despite being Baratheons and having all sorts of instructors. It isn't supposed to matter, but... we all know it does. So just... be careful. House Lannister would definitely prefer to bury those rumors.”

Gendry gives her a startled look, and she's relieved that he seems to understand exactly what she isn't saying aloud. But after he nods once, he makes a show of shrugging dismissively. “...No way to prove anything, anyway. My mum's been dead for years.”

“Yeah, it's probably just gossip,” she says lightly, before she stops and gives him a wan smile. “Anyway, I look forward to seeing you at the tournament, Gendry.”

He nods seriously and she turns to go, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of disquiet.

* * *

Arya can't stop thinking about him as the train leaves the hazy rats maze of the Outer Ring and streets gets wider, homes start getting bigger, and recreational spaces like parks and bender courts appear. And she's rather somber once she spots the towering palace and villas of the Upper Ring- it isn't fair, really- Gendry's going to be competing without the rest and background knowledge the nobly born contenders have.

Normally she'd be gleefully forming a strategy, but this just feels like kicking a boy who's starting on his knees.

An unusually handsome, talented boy.

But she knows the drill now that they've attended a few banquets at the palace, so she doesn't have to think about the steps as she washes the road dust off, re-combs her hair and then carefully puts on the coordinated blue gown, accessories and slippers that Sansa's chosen, pondering whether to tell Father the things she discovered. Part of her thinks she shouldn't burden him with this when he's already struggling to juggle his sister's demands against King Robert's pride and also trying to coordinate their people here while half of them are quartered in the Middle Ring. But surely-

Sansa makes a noise of frustration next to her and turns abruptly. “ _What's wrong already?_ This is an incredibly prestigious social event and instead of pestering me with complaints about your outfit and endless questions, you've been quiet as a statue since you got back!”

Arya blinks and frowns. “Nothing! Just- thinking how lucky we have it.”

Sansa gives her a perplexed look. “Compared to who? Even the merchants here dine better than us up north.”

“Most of the people living in this city don't, though,” Arya points out, and Sansa's brow instantly furrows.

She has to give her credit- Sansa's a lot sharper at figuring out angles and people than all her gushing about fashion trends and lemoncakes lets on. “...You went to the Outer Ring today, didn't you? Were you tracking down that Earthbender contender?” Her eyes go round. “You were, weren't you? Can he really Metalbend?”

Arya sighs, busted. “I didn't see him do it, but he says he can, and I believe him. He's definitely at least as good as Shireen- moved heaps of rock with barely a twitch.”

Sansa's eyes gleam. “You think the rumors are true, then?”

Arya glances around before carefully nodding and Sansa's mouth drops open with delight before she continues with a disappointed sigh. “Well, I hope I get the first bracket with Robin anyway. He's become even more insufferable than ever and Aunt Lysa can't shriek if I whip his skinny airbender butt in the ring.”

Arya smiles wickedly, giving Sansa a sideways look. “As if that's ever stopped her before. Besides, I figured you were hoping for Yara Greyjoy.”

Spots of color appear in Sansa's cheeks but she continues serenely applying her makeup. “I don't know what you mean, Arya.”

Arya just gives her a knowing look and Sansa rolls her eyes and huffs impatiently.

“Just stop daydreaming already! Father's probably already waiting for us.”

* * *

It isn't the first time they've been invited to dine at the palace, but it's the first time with so many noble guests from other nations. There are Dai Li everywhere, and Arya's not looking forward to a night of their suspicious stares while fending off the probing questions and sharp tongues of High Society.

Arya's already learned enough from previous banquets to keep her answers as short as possible and to avoid the King and Queen in particular. At least it shouldn't drag on late, since the tournament will commence tomorrow. The Starks have more friends in this place than foes as well-- it's hard not to feel sorry for the Fire Nation representatives present, but the Targaryen siblings and their personal security have been model guests despite their lukewarm reception.

Arya thinks if there was slightly less scrutiny, she would have liked to try to make friends with Daenerys. Find out things about the Fire Nation, and the Targaryens, for Jon.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to make a little small talk, anyway.

She's making her way over through the crowd when the Arryns find her.

“Arya! There you are! Your father said you didn't join the welcome party because you were out shopping this afternoon,” Lysa Arryn pointed out sourly.

Arya smiles despite her dismay and pivots, giving her Aunt Lysa the expected kiss on the cheek. “Aunt Lysa! Yes, I had a custom order that couldn't be deferred, so please accept my apologies. How was your trip to Ba Sing Se?”

“Oh! Dreadful, but over quickly enough, thanks to our skybison. Arya, you remember your cousin Robin?”

“Of course. You're so tall now! Are you excited about the tournament? Sansa and I were thrilled to qualify. Made Robb drill us in forms and techniques until we could do them in our sleep.”

Robin smiles smugly, puffing his chest out. He actually looks rather better than the spindly thing he'd been a few years ago, and he's dressed in a finely tailored light grey suit. Doubtless Aunt Lysa is taking this chance to try to snag him an advantageous match too. “Well, I had no trouble at all- I hope you're ready! Can’t wait to make you all fly!”

Arya just smiles. “They say words are wind. But then, I guess you’d know all about that.”

  
  


“'Course! I'm an Airbender, after all,” he sniffs.

  
  


Arya smiles brightly, resisting the urge to laugh. “Of course. Ah! If you'll excuse me, I must speak with Shireen on an urgent matter. Aunt Lysa, Cousin Robin.”

  
  


She waves at Shireen and then inclines her head towards them in a polite retreat before walking purposefully towards her friend. She had used perfect society niceties and therefore shouldn't get an earful about it later.

Shireen gives her a mischievous smile. "Look at you dodging out of onerous conversations like an Airbender," she giggles.

  
  


“Haha. I had a real reason for talking to you, thank you very much: I know this is the strangest question, but do _all_ contenders get invitations to the tournament banquets?”

  
  


She blinks with surprise as she thinks and then nods. “Yes. Of course.”

  
  


“Even commoners?”

  
  


“...Yes?”

  
  


“But then how do they afford the formal clothing to attend? And how do they get to the palace if they have no access to a carriage?”

  
  


Shireen's eyebrows raise and she blinks seriously as she considers. “Well... historically, the only Earthbender commoners who have qualified for past tournaments have had parents from the merchant class or employed by the city, so I'm assuming their parents paid for all that. But you're speaking about somebody in particular, aren't you?”

  
  


Arya makes a face, looking at the glittering crowd and keeping her voice low. “It's not fair. The feast and chance to make social connections are supposed to be the perks of qualifying.”

  
  


Shireen smiles slightly. “He's impressive, isn't he? Nobody ever uses the chains but Baratheons, but he did in the qualifiers. One of the judges just stood there gaping like a catfish. My father's been trying to make discreet inquiries, but you know how it is.”

  
  


Arya glances at the Dai Li. “I do. Saw the old lion himself coming out of his shop earlier today.”

  
  


“Oh. That's troubling.” Shireen brightens. “What if I see what Uncle Renly's got in his old closet? Alter a couple of pieces and it'll look like a whole new outfit. Ooh, this might be fun!”

  
  


Arya grins. “You sound like Sansa on a project.”

  
  


“Well, good! Things like this take careful planning and House Baratheon can't make an official move until a declaration is made. Hmm. I can pitch in some of my pin money so he can hire a carriage. But really, all that is moot if someone simply removes the player before the act is done. Best speak to your father soon, I think.” She suddenly smiles wide to cover her murmur. _“Incoming.”_

  
  


“Cousin! Why are you skulking over here with a Stark?” Prince Joffrey demands, strutting over and angling his hip so they can all see the flashy new dagger on his belt.

  
  


Arya pastes another fake smile on and makes noises of admiration.

  
  


Shireen's analyses are rarely wrong. And that means she's got to move quickly and quietly.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Gendry's been to the Middle Ring before, in the past. His mum would say they were splurging, and they'd take the train to buy something from a fancy shop there or go to a restaurant. One especially memorable time, they'd gone to the zoo.

  
  


He'd eaten ice cream and gawped at all the armadillo-bears, bull antelope and dragon flies. And he'd fallen asleep against his mum on the train ride home.

  
  


But it's been ages, and he feels strange flashing the train pass he'd been issued instead of getting a single use ticket. And it's odd to realize the seats are a lot smaller than they'd been in his memory.

  
  


Hot Pie barely fits, although he lets out an excited sigh and beams at the other passengers after he puts the sack of snacks next to him. Lommy sits next to Gendry, spreading the poster nervously across his knees and pointing to the relevant information.

  
  


“Right. So odds are, you'll be fighting a Waterbender today –-there's three of 'em-- or a Firebender, cause there's two. The Airbender's going to be a wildcard- I thought they were practically extinct, but I guess they needed one present to make it a real tourney. Anyway, the only straight fight would be the Baratheon girl, and that's not likely to happen. Single elimination, so if you lose, you don't advance to the next round. Standard rules: nothing lethal; can't bring any extra materials into the ring. Knock your competitor from the ring, or immobilize them to take the win.”

  
  


Gendry nods. “Any bookie talk about the contenders?”

  
  


Lommy makes a face. “That's the problem with them all being foreigners- barely anything to go on. Hopefully you get drawn last so you can see some of the others in action first. Don't like the odds of this, Gendry.”

  
  


Gendry gives him a derisive look. “Well, too late now. Just tell me what you got.”

  
  


“Them Stark girls had an aunt that won the tournament at Harrenhal before the War, yeah? So she might have taught them a few tricks- ice manipulation especially is supposed to be a Northern Water Tribe technique. The Greyjoys are supposed to be fishermen or pirates or something, so she'll probably stick to hitting you with waves or waterwhips. Probably less water in the ring than what she's used to, so that might be an advantage?”

  
  


He taps on the Targaryen names. “I'm guessing they'll be typical Firebenders- all offense all the time. And Airbending is supposed to be the opposite- all evasion, very little offense. Probably hard to pin down, and he might, like, levitate instead of hitting the ground outside the ring, so might be smarter to bury him. But that's all I got.”

  
  


Gendry nods and exhales nervously. "Right then."  
  


Once they get to the stadium, he's been instructed to show his pass, which works like magic. He barely has time to wave to Hot Pie and Lommy before he's escorted through the crowd and up to the center, where he spots some of the others --including that pretty Arya girl-- already seated on some kind of stage. She's sat next to a redhead, who must be her sister, the way they eye each other and smile as if they read each other's minds. Arya lifts her fingers in a little wave, and he inclines his head slightly and gives her a half smile. On the other side of her, also dressed in blue gear but with a markedly different pattern, is a tough looking brunette who must be Yara Greyjoy.

The others are easy enough to figure out- Robin Arryn has to be the only one dressed in grey and the Targaryens in red with their silver-blond hair and purple eyes look like something out of a history book, and Gendry has to remind himself not to stare. Shireen Baratheon he's met briefly before, and she smiles encouragingly as he moves to take the vacant seat next to her.

"Good luck, Gendry," she says softly, and Gendry gives a nod back.

"Same. Earthbending's better than all their's anyway, isn't it?"

She dimples. "Absolutely."

There's a sudden blaring of trumpets, and Gendry realizes the ceremony has started because the King and Queen have just entered the arena, and therefore everybody has risen to their feet as the music plays. Once they take their seats on the stage, everybody else is allowed to sit again.

Gendry glances over curiously- he supposes he's black haired and tall like the king, but they're built nothing alike otherwise. He can recognize his drinker's nose and the double chin under that unkempt beard from here, and he finds he's actually rather annoyed at the rumors. 

Then the Grand Secretariat goes up to make a speech about the proud history of tournaments and international cooperation, and Gendry starts searching the seats for his friends, only half paying attention. The crowd is mostly dressed in Earth Kingdom colors, so it's slow going, and he finally finds them up high and far back just before the draw for the brackets starts.

The Grand Secretariat shuffles the cards with ceremonial seriousness and then King and Queen both draw one each before turning and placing them up on the board behind them, the audience going silent and expectant.

  
  


**Round 1: Daenerys Targaryen vs. Sansa Stark**

  
  


There's a chorus of both whistles and boos as both girls stand and bow to the King and Queen and then each other. Then the ceremony continues, with another shuffle and draw of the name cards.

  
  


**Round 2: Arya Stark vs Robin Arryn**

  
  


There's only polite applause as they stand. Arya smiles and bows politely but the Airbender merely bobs his head at her. Seems like they know each other somehow too.

  
  


**Round 3: Yara Greyjoy vs. Shireen Baratheon**

  
  


Shireen and Yara are both models of polite sportmanship, although the noise from the crowd is deafening. King Robert himself shouts, “my darling niece!” and Shireen blushes as the crowd roars again.

  
  


There's already people starting to chat in the audience because they can deduce the last bracket for themselves, but the king simply continues with the ceremony and places Viserys Targaryen's name card up on the board.

  
  


Queen Cersei smiles stiffly, not reaching for the last card that's got to have his name on it. Lommy will be pleased anyway- last bracket means they'll get to watch everybody else go first. “Surely we shouldn't have two boys fighting each other when there are actually more girls in the pool of contenders. Perhaps a redraw-”

  
  


“Don't be an idiot, woman! The brackets have to go up randomly,” King Robert rebukes her angrily, and he plucks the card up with disgust himself and slaps it on the board.

  
  


**Round 4: Viserys Targaryen vs. Gendry (Earthbender, BSS)**

  
  


Gendry doesn't understand why Queen Cersei's lips are pressed tightly together and Tywin Lannister looks thunderous. In fact, Arya and her sister and even Shireen Baratheon are staring with horror at the board too. But he stands and bows like he's supposed to, not bothered that Viserys looks smugly delighted and barely dips his head at him.

  
  


King Robert is gesturing at the board with obvious excitement, and the audience is cheering. They're actually cheering really loud, and Gendry realizes that it might be for him- because he's an Earthbender from Ba Sing Se.

  
  


Strange to realize. Nice, too.

  
  


He grins at Hot Pie and Lommy where they're shouting and waving wildly in the stands. This might actually be fun.

  
  


“May the best bender win!” King Robert roars, and the crowd roars his words back.


	2. (Or

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preemptive apology if your fave doesn't win their match! And apologies for the long wait- had technical troubles (An OpenOffice "known glitch" rewrote my save file all into pound signs- took me days to recover a deleted file of some of what I had lost) and then it just got too unwieldy long so I’m breaking it into two!

Arya waits for King Robert to double take, to look from Viserys' sneeringly superior expression framed with that silver blond hair and then to Gendry's height, coloring and defiant glower and make the inevitable comparison.

But he doesn't.

He just swaggers back to his seat, and then Lord Tywin announces that there will be a short delay while the stage is removed. The Dai Li lead them to the Royal Box, and the competitors are then ushered off the stage to the staging area next to it.

Arya deliberately slows to walk with Shireen. “He didn't even _notice_ ,” Arya says softly, incredulous, and Shireen glances up at their fathers in the Noble's section. Lord Stannis and Father both look grim, talking tersely under their breaths while pretending to watch the stage being taken apart.

“Good. Let's hope it stays that way,” Shireen murmurs. Lord Stannis catches his daughter's eye though, and he pauses to smile down at her, giving her a proud nod, which makes Shireen beam and wave back. Arya and Sansa get a proud smile from Father too, and he mouths “Winter is Coming” at them and they nod and smile back.

They represent the Northern Water Tribe today, after all.

There are both guards and healers staffing the area, and there's an open area for warming up as well as a row of seats facing the ring.

Robin flops himself into the closest seat, feigning boredom, while the Targaryens take themselves immediately to the mats, talking quietly in their own language while Daenerys starts stretching. Yara gives Sansa a nod before she stalks off to the back wall and leans against it, arms crossed. Shireen wishes Sansa good luck before she goes to sit as close to the Royal Box as possible so she can greet Myrcella and Tommen on the other side. Arya and Sansa head to the mats to warm up too, at a respectful distance from the Targaryens, although Arya can't help keeping an eye out for Gendry.

He glances around warily before choosing a seat in the middle of the row between Shireen and Robin, and then he looks over at the Royal Box, frowning.

He's got to be making that physical comparison despite what he said yesterday.

And King Robert is obviously slightly hungover, growling his impatience with the delay and petulantly demanding that somebody fetch wine.

Maybe the apple has fallen far enough from the tree that it won't matter. Gendry sure is a lot nicer to look at, anyway.

But the more pressing issue is the matches themselves.

Sansa looks calm enough, but Arya knows her well enough to see the anxious tension in her posture as she stretches. Going first in any contest is hardest, even without such a tough opponent, and as glad as Arya is that it's not her, she wishes Sansa could have had an easier bracket.

“Just keep in mind what Aunt Lyanna said,” Arya says bracingly, “and you'll be perfectly fine.”

Sansa raises a brow. “I haven't forgotten.” She sighs and lowers her voice. “I don't mind losing. I just hope I won't get humiliated,” she admits.

Arya frowns. “Hey, none of that! Remember: fear cuts deeper than swords. And you beat everybody but me at the qualifiers, even that Ramsey Snow after he played dirty. You _deserv_ e to be here.”

Sansa gives Arya a wan smile before the guard by the entrance calls her name and Daenerys'- it's time.

Sansa exhales before she walks over, any obvious wrinkles of self-doubt smoothing into a perfect porcelain mask of composure.

But the exchange bothers Arya enough that she doesn't bother trying to focus on stretching once her sister's gone- she goes to sit between Gendry and Shireen to watch the match instead. Sansa's never been able to roll with the pain of being hit as easily as the rest of them, and Waterbending might bruise, but it doesn't _burn_.

The crowd whoops with excitement when they walk out towards the ring, a raised stone square with an inset quartered circle of metal grates. The grates cover canals filled with water, both for Waterbender access and to put out any unexpected fires.

The stone is made of big pieces with smaller bricks around the side. Arya has seen Earthbenders manipulate the different bricks before, but as Waterbenders they usually only use the big triangular ones that designate starting positions.

Sansa and Daenerys stand opposite each other, bowing formally before they each assume their initial forms- Sansa with her legs slightly apart and palms cupped upwards, so fierce and yet poised that Arya feels a rush of pride. Daenerys takes a low Firebender ready stance: legs braced with one knee forward, one hand extended before her, and the other pulled back over her hip.

As soon as the gong sounds they both spring into action.

Sansa pulls streams of water from both sides of her with an imperious raise of her arms and immediately converts it into a whip to deflect the fireball that Daenerys has sent at her with an open palm punch.

Sansa keeps the coil of water flowing gracefully, gaining momentum as she twists it back towards the Firebender, but Daenerys blasts it to steam with a powerful downward strike of her other arm. Sansa quickly draws more water, flinging a disc of it with a flick of her fingers to try to catch Daenerys in the face.

But it misses when Daenerys leaps to the side, a backwards kick turning her in midair and delivering another fireball from her foot.

That sets the tone for the rest of the match- Sansa keeps drawing constantly to deflect the barrage of fireballs and blasts as Daenerys dances around her, moving from one Firebending form to the next, striking both high and low.

Arya's heart pounds anxiously as she watches, and she keeps her fists firmly clenched to keep herself from doing something stupidly reactive. Sansa's not flowing back to offense from defense.

“Change it up already, Sans!” Arya pleads softly, not noticing the way both Gendry and Shireen give her sympathetic looks. But it's already too late.

Daenerys has sent a surprise extra fireball, not matching the previous rhythm.

With one wide-eyed, last second yank, Sansa draws up enough water to cover herself, but she cries out and stumbles back when it hits.

And Daenerys presses her advantage, catching Sansa with another blast that sends her tumbling to the ground. Her eyes are ablaze with triumph as she leaps forward to make sure Sansa stays down, shoving a knee into her back and then twisting one of her hands behind her.

“-No!” Arya gasps, blinking with surprise when both Gendry and Shireen catch her arms as she half rises from her seat.

“Arya!” they both hiss even as the gong sounds, and Arya understands instantly, sitting back down and ignoring the suddenly arrested motion of the guards towards her. She didn't attempt to intervene, so she's done nothing to be disqualified for. And she lets out a shuddering breath of relief when Daenerys stands and Sansa stirs and clambers back to her feet, panting and rubbing her arm.

_She's okay._

Arya gulps, wishing she was better at bottling her emotions- unlike the Royal Box and the Nobles' section, the staging area isn't covered against prying eyes and inclement weather, and the bookies have probably all made gleeful note of her reaction. “Sorry,” she breathes, “wasn't thinking.”

Shireen demurs, shaking her head slightly. Arya glances at Gendry, perplexed- he barely knows her.

But he just shrugs and looks away.

Her heart makes a weird hopeful flop in her chest and she exhales, determined to ignore it.

Lord Tywin announces Daenerys the winner, and as a mix of boos and reluctant clapping comes from the crowd, Arya follows Robin to wait by the entrance.

Stadium workers and a badger-mole hurry into the ring to make sure it is in match condition even as Sansa and Daenerys walk back to the staging area for the healers to check them over.

Arya can only give Sansa a commiserating smile when she passes, although Sansa's whispered “For House Stark!” makes her nod with renewed determination.

And despite the insistent buzz of thousands of voices, the discomfort that everybody is watching as they walk into the ring, take their places and bow, she can also sense the clean water within reach: deep and cool, soothingly responsive.

As she assumes her starting form- sideface, palms cupped upwards, the confidence from hundreds of hours of training for exactly this slides back into place.

Arya might eventually lose a round in the bending ring- but it won't be today.

They both move as soon as the gong rings, with Robin cupping his hands around his mouth and trying to blow her right out of the ring.

She'd expected that and dodges to the side first, pulling a surge of water up through the grate so she can surf ahead of the concentrated blast of wind, flicking tensed up hands to send clumps of slush at him.

He has to stop blowing to dodge them, spinning like a leaf in the wind to avoid the projectiles. While spinning, he conjures a swirling ball of air so he can sit on it and hover, bobbing and lifting out of the way of her slushballs instead.

And he's so focused on dodging that he hasn't noticed that she's driven him right over the grates.

With one abrupt raise of her arms she upwells the water to smash his airball from below, engulfing him in water and freezing it by holding her arms rigid.

Robin's reflexes are fast- he immediately tries to blow off the water.

But while the ice cracks a little, he doesn't have enough air left to force it open, nor is he physically strong enough to struggle his way out, especially with her determinedly holding it solid.

She's barely aware of the roar from the excited crowd, utterly focused on bleeding more heat out and sealing the ice around Robin's panicked attempts to flail until the gong sounds.

Then she blinks and relaxes, reverting the ice to water and then letting her arms fall.

It splashes down obediently through the grate into the canal, depositing her drenched, coughing cousin with it.

He blasts himself dry, still shivering and coughing as he gets to his feet, and then they hear Lord Tywin making the announcement.

“And in record time, the winner of the second match is Arya Stark of the Northern Water Tribe.”

Robin scowls and stamps back, but Arya sketches a small bow first, waving to the wildly excited patch of spectators dressed in blue up in the stands- looks like their people managed to secure a bunch of seats together.

_One match down, hopefully two to go tomorrow._

Sansa beams upon their return, obviously thrilled and already finished with healing. “Congratulations to both of you- a fine showing, Robin. And Arya! I'm so proud!”

Arya laughs and hugs her back, utterly relieved. “I'm just glad you're okay.”

Sansa shakes her head dismissively. “Just bruises from falling, and their healer is very good. Fireballs were more heat than force, and I was drenched anyway.”

Arya inspects Sansa's robe, and there are little singe marks where she'd been hit, but no horrific burning like they'd feared.

And since Arya doesn't need the healer, they hurry to watch the next match.

Gendry turns and gives Arya an appraising look. “You _are_ quick.”

She grins, lifting a shoulder, wishing her cheeks didn't feel so flushed. “...Told you.”

He huffs a little laugh, his eyes warm on hers, before he glances back when the cheering from the crowd intensifies- Yara and Shireen have reached the ring.

Yara looks dubious as she takes stock of Shireen, who Arya has to admit, looks extra frail and tiny today. While the voluminous gowns and shimmery material Shireen usually wears help camouflage how thin she is, Earthbender wide-legged shorts and short sleeved robes aren't designed for that. They're cut to ensure freedom of movement, and her bare limbs stick out like matchsticks; the bright yellow and greens a sharp contrast to the grayscale scar on her face. Yara shakes her head as she struts confidently to her mark and cracks her knuckles. “I eat prissy little girls like you for breakfast. Sometimes they even thank me after,” she declares.

Shireen smiles blithely, unperturbed as she takes her position across from Yara. “Be careful you don’t break your teeth.”

Yara shrugs, readies her hands and takes a step back- her initial stance actually resembles Arya's.

Shireen bends her knees slightly, arms bent at the elbows and hands closed into fists, and they both wait.

As soon as the gong sounds, Yara pulls up streamers of water like wicked tentacles, smacking away the rock pieces Shireen is stamping up and punching at her.

Yara builds up the water on her arms, trying to extend them enough to grab Shireen and part her from the Earth, the source of her bending- same strategy Greyjoys use on their raids.

But Shireen isn't a typical terrified villager.

Her chin is set stubbornly as she steels herself, lowering her stance further to the ground. Arya hears Gendry curse next to her before the entire raised square of the ring trembles visibly, and then the big block Yara was standing on abruptly pitches out diagonally when Shireen kicks one foot upwards.

Yara is thrown head over heels out of the ring.

She manages to reform some of the water she's got with her into a makeshift cushion, but even Arya winces when she lands with a crash and Sansa gasps and covers her mouth with shock.

_Ow._

The crowd explodes, and nobody can even hear Lord Tywin announcing Shireen the winner over the tumultuous cheering and stamping. Gendry grins as he stands up to take his turn, shaking his head.

“Damn, she's got _roots,_ ” he says admiringly.

Arya looks up with a surprised smile. Most people she's met here in Ba Sing Se make snide references to Shireen's unfortunate scar or unwomanly figure- it's heartening to hear well deserved praise. “Good luck to you, Gendry,” she says softly, and he nods back at her before striding over to the entrance to wait with Viserys.

Sansa slants her a speculative look and Arya rolls her eyes. “Do _not_ start.”

“...Haven't said _a thing._ ”

“Good. Don't.”

Sansa smiles wickedly and Arya wonders darkly how much easier her life would be without any nosy siblings.

It takes the stadium staff and badger mole a lot more effort than the previous rounds to repair and clean up the ring, and by the time they're finished Yara is being looked after by the healers and Shireen is back, her cheeks still flushed and her hands shaking slightly from the residual adrenaline.

“I didn't expect everybody to start screaming,” she confesses. “Many Dai Li can bend a similar mass, after all. They're going to go absolutely _mad_ next.”

Arya gives Shireen a teasing smile. “No guarantee he'll win.”

Shireen tilts her head and purses her lips. “True. But he's from Ba Sing Se-- and so are they,” she says, gesturing towards the stands.

She's right- the cheers as Gendry and Viserys walk out to the ring are louder than ever, and they have to wait for a long time in starting positions for the noise to die down- Viserys with one arm angled dramatically over his head, and Gendry in the same typical Earthbender pose Shireen had used.

When the gong finally sounds, Viserys makes an immediate downward slash, blasting fire out of both his mouth and hands at Gendry- one of those signature Targaryen “dragon” attacks.

Gendry just steps back and bends the big block he was standing on out of the ground by punching up with one of his fists, using it to shield himself from the raging torrent of flame. When Viserys eases off the blast, panting, Gendry crouches slightly and hurls it across the ring with a two handed punch.

Arya has to stifle a laugh at the wide-eyed panic on Viserys' face before he does a rolling dive out of the way.

He twists to throw a couple of quick fireballs with punches, but Gendry just bends up more bricks to absorb them.

Viserys then starts to do what Daenerys did in the first match, moving from one form to the next to create a constant barrage of blasts and fireballs, although it obviously winds him and he doesn't do it as seamlessly as his sister did. He just seems determined not to stay in one place long enough for Gendry to repeat Shireen's trick.

It doesn't matter though- as Viserys is leaping from one form to the next, Gendry's been anticipating where he's going to land, and with a sideways strike of his hand, sends a diagonal pillar of rock to intercept him, knocking him off balance before a strike from his other hand sends a second pillar to eject him from the ring.

The entire stadium goes absolutely wild- even King Robert stands up and bellows, “Yessss! Pound that Firebender trash!” with utter disregard for maintaining diplomatic courtesy.

To her credit, Daenerys only crooks a brow slightly to show she's overheard, looking anxiously towards her brother, who is gingerly picking himself up off the ground. It's impossible to hear the gong or the formal announcements, but nobody minds- the matches are over for the day and with both Earthbenders advancing to the semi-finals, the mostly homegrown crowd is ecstatic.

Gendry looks chagrined by all the uproar, rubbing his neck with embarrassment before waving once at the stands and walking back even as the crowd starts chanting his name.

A jubilant and flushed King Robert swaggers over to the staging area to greet the winners, flanked by Dai Li and accompanied by his Royal family, who range from looking ill-pleased to equally excited to talk to the benders they've just seen.

The competitors all hasten to stand, although King Robert makes a beeline for his niece.

“Shireen, Shireen! Ours is the Fury, indeed! You'll need to teach your cousins how to reach down their roots, eh? And then maybe next year they can actually qualify,” he says pointedly, glaring at Joffrey.

Shireen dips her head and curtsies gracefully, ignoring the ugly expression on Joffrey's face. “Thank you for your kind words, Uncle. I hope to do as well tomorrow.”

He nods, pleased, and then claps Gendry on the shoulder. “ Although she'll be fighting _you_! And you did very well today, boy. Power _and_ strategy- just the sort of show we deserved from a tourney!”

Gendry dips his head awkwardly. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Then The King turns to Arya and smiles wistfully. “Looked just like Lyanna out there, you did. Ah, she was glorious at Harrenhal. She trained you?”

Arya hesitates- Aunt Lyanna is one of those dangerous topics they're supposed to avoid, especially around the King. And while Father isn't here to redirect the conversation, Sansa speaks up smoothly. “She's actually taught both of us, though Arya's ice mastery is much better, as I'm sure you could see. I do wish I had thought to switch from water to ice.”

King Robert takes her hand and pats it reassuringly. “Only to be expected, with you obviously taking after the Tullys. A fine showing, my dear. Going toe to toe with a Targaryen is not something every bender survives, after all,” he pronounces.

Arya is glad both Targaryens are still occupied by the healers, and she can see by the nervous glances around that most of the others feel the same way.

“Indeed, win or lose you should _all_ be proud. You showed us a truly spectacular display of bending and sportsmanship today,” Lord Tywin declares assertively. He smiles crisply at all of them. “Now, I'm sure you must all be eager to rest and refresh yourselves after such exertion. There is still the banquet to think about, after all.” 

King Robert nods agreeably, always easily diverted by the suggestion of food and wine. “Yes, yes, of course. Shall we to the carriages then?”

Shireen speaks up suddenly. “Uncle Robert, do you think Gendry could be a guest of House Baratheon at the banquet tonight? I'm sure we've room in our carriage and he's not got one of his own.”

Gendry's head whips around so he can stare with shock at Shireen but she ignores him as King Robert blinks with befuddlement. “Well... _all_ competitors attend the tournament banquets. I remember drinking too much at one or two myself. Though I managed well enough in the matches despite the hangovers! It's all part of the experience, after all. Boy, you should take the opportunity to speak to Lord Tywin about fast tracking into the Dai Li, or maybe Lord Beifong with Gates and Transport. ”

Gendry blinks and gapes at the King for a second before ducking his head and stammering. “Well, I- I'm grateful for the offer, of course, but I've not got formal robes, so-”

Queen Cersei smiles thinly. “Ah. Such a shame. I suppose we'll see you in tomorrow's matches, then.”

Shireen pipes up again. “I believe we've got a set he can borrow- they might have been for Ser Davos, originally. You remember after became a lord? He didn't expect that.”

Queen Cersei's smile turns brittle at the corners, though she still sounds perfectly reasonable. “Surely alterations will be impossible at such a late hour.”

King Robert brushes aside her objections impatiently. “Ach, the maids will be up to it- Renly had them hopping to tailor his things all the time. You'll see to it, Shireen my dear?”

She curtsies prettily again. “Upon my honor as a Baratheon,” she promises, and Arya has to stifle a smile at how adroitly she had maneuvered.

Gendry gives Shireen another bewildered look before they all bow and curtsy as the King and his family take their leave.

But he turns abruptly to her once they've left. “ _What was that for?_ My friends will be waiting for me- I hadn't planned to go!” he protests.

Shireen nods apologetically.“I'm sorry to spring it upon you, but the crowd out there's a mob right now- it won't be safe for you to go back alone by rail, and the queues will be awful besides. And it's not fair that you miss the banquets when you've every right to be there. It's nothing for House Baratheon to enable you to attend, whereas an invitation to the palace normally takes weeks to secure.”

Gendry turns to Arya, frowning. “...You told her?”

Arya lifts her chin defiantly despite how having him stare at her with those piercing blue eyes is making her pulse skip. “You _do_ have a right to be there. Shireen and I can be with you the whole time; make sure you don't spoil your society debut if that sort of thing matters to you.”

He shakes his head and makes an aggrieved noise. “Look, I appreciate you going to all this trouble for me, but-”

Shireen holds out her hands and bends, her fingers twitching so that the ground vibrates under their feet.

Arya doesn't understand why until she hears Shireen speak, with quiet conviction.

“Gendry. _Listen_. _I think you're my cousin._ And there's proof at the palace, if you've the courage to see it.”

He stares at Shireen with trepidation for a long moment before he finally nods.

* * *

He shouldn't have agreed.

All of this is mad; it could turn his life upside down.

It already _is_ upside down- he's in a fancy carriage sitting on plush velvet seats on his way to the Upper Ring instead of listening to Lommy take apart the matches move by move while they stuff themselves with Hot Pie's special buns. Eating before a match is always a terrible idea, so he'd been keenly looking forward to them and now he's starving as well as nervous. Not that they'd actually planned how to meet up after either, which in retrospect, was pretty stupid of them.

Hopefully they get the rail all right.

Lord Stannis Baratheon is tall –-taller than him-- and keeps studying his face with an expression halfway between surprise and a frown while Shireen is sat calmly beside him, acting like they always invite Outer Ring smiths into their carriage.

She doesn't much look like her dad, besides the eyes and hair color and shape of her chin, especially with her dressed in Earthbender gear while he’s in expensive looking robes. He obviously holds her in high esteem though- her announcement that “Gendry, the other Earthbender” was joining them in their carriage had obviously taken him by surprise and yet he'd just dipped his head and said, “by my lady's request,” and that had been that.

Still, Gendry should really say something about how dangerous it is to unearth something like this.

“Shireen – Lady Baratheon. I just- I don't know that finding anything like what you said is a good idea, if you know what I mean. Lord Lannister's been to my shop. I don't want to cause any trouble.”

Lord Stannis sighs grimly. “You can speak freely here, Gendry- even the most adept Dai Li agents won't be able to pick up the vibrations of our conversation while we're in motion, and the driver is one of my own men. Also, as an official guest of House Baratheon, the Dai Li won't be able to arrest you without a warrant now. That was neatly done, Shireen.”

She gives him a sunny smile. “...Thank you, Father.”

Gendry shakes his head. “You don't understand, sir- once I go back to Mott's after, they can just haul me off to Lake Laogai anyway.”

Shireen nods seriously, a little crease between her brows. “The Dai Li are terribly effective- but I doubt they can make a public attempt to arrest you now- all of Ba Sing Se is hoping you'll win the Grand Prize. They'll have a riot on their hands if you disappear before the tournament is over.”

Lord Stannis nods in agreement but Gendry scoffs. “For an Outer Ring smith? Doubt it. They'll just say something about the terrible crime rate. What we get for “choosing” to live in that part of town.”

“Not if my father and I make demands and ask questions. And we can be very persistent. Baratheons are notorious for being stubborn, after all. The one thing I don't understand is why the Dai Li didn't brainwash you not to Metalbend.”

His mouth falls open in horror. “...They can _do_ that?”

She presses her lips together with obvious distaste. “I believe they call it 'an educational trip to Lake Laogai'. Helps suppress civil unrest or labor protests. Lord Tywin argues that it's necessary to maintain order in a city this size.”

Gendry shakes his head, but it makes sense. Everybody coming back from Lake Laogai always has markedly changed attitudes after.

Still, to take away his _bending_. Wait... “...Maybe because I need my bending to smith? He placed a custom order for a sword, and I need to Metalbend to make steel that looks and acts like Valyrian steel.”

Stannis barks a contemptuous laugh. “...So the very talent that might have damned you ended up sparing you. Lannister has always wanted a Valyrian heirloom.” He gives Gendry a warning look. “An Earthbender knows how to endure until the right time to strike. Make sure you don't get him his order until the conditions suit.”

Gendry nods reluctantly.

Shireen tilts her head reflectively. “Stubbornness has always felt key to Earthbending for me- might be why Baratheons have a knack for it. Legend says our ancestor rebuilt Storm's End five times rather than bend to the will of the storm gods. And I know that I survived _this_ even though I was just a baby.” She touches her grayscale scar lightly.

Stannis nods with grim pride. “Too stubborn to die. Baratheon roots will out.”

Gendry looks away, uncomfortable. He's never thought about having relatives or ancestors or any of that before.

Shireen gives him a wan smile, as if she understands his ambivalence about all of this, and that makes him feel even worse.

So he tries to change the topic. “...You like Ba Sing Se, then?”

She brightens. “Of course! We used to live here when I was younger and I loved going to the Zoo. Father was helping my Uncle with the more tedious parts of being King, then.”

Stannis snorts with disgust at the memory. “Bureaucrats and reconstruction and endless budgets. Impatience and a volatile temper suited them ill then, and still now. Robert's a warrior at heart, not an administrator. Lannister is doing a better job of it, despite his methods. And your very existence might throw a wrench in his dynastic plans. You know the story?”

“That the King married Queen Cersei for Lannister money?”

Shireen nods. “Wars are expensive. And Uncle Robert no longer had the woman he loved.”

Gendry gives Shireen a confused look. She has this oddly expectant expression, like she's waiting for him to figure out something. “...Probably hard to ask a Waterbender to leave being surrounded by ocean and ice and snow for this.” He gestures out the window- the post tournament traffic is bad, and the road dust is all the worse for it. “Plus she'd been raped. Pretty traumatizing.”

Shireen hesitates. “That's... one version of the story. Don't you ever wonder how Lyanna Stark defeated Rhaegar Targaryen in the tourney at Harrenhal, and yet he managed to force himself on her after? How the Northern Water Tribe initially declared for us and then decided to remain neutral?”

Gendry shrugs. “Not really, no. Men do shitty things like that all the time. And the Northern Water Tribe's not as big as us or the Fire Nation. Just foolish to put yourself between a sledgehammer and an anvil. Won the rebellion without them anyway.”

Shireen frowns, glancing at her father. “Yes. But we've visited the Northern Water Tribe too. And Lady Lyanna Stark told us a different story.”

Gendry blinks, taken aback, and Stannis grimaces, though he gestures for her to continue.

She takes a deep breath, as if to brace herself, before she continues. “Prince Rheagar didn't rape Lady Lyanna- she fell in love with him. So she broke off her engagement to my uncle Robert. And maybe because he was hurt and angry that she spurned him, or maybe because many Earth Kingdom nobles resented the burden of taxes to the Fire Nation -–but more likely both-- my uncle Robert challenged Prince Rhaegar to a bending battle. Lady Lyanna was traumatized because she saw the man she loved brutally killed in front of her, not because she was raped.”

His mouth just works for a minute as he struggles to process. “...But- but why didn't she _say_ anything?” he demands, aghast.

Lord Stannis is frank. “She did. But none of the officials would take a crying woman's word over Robert's. Prince Rhaegar was a married man, therefore everybody _knew_ he shouldn't have been with her. And Fire Nation officials all over our annexed kingdom had nasty habits of simply acquiring things –-and women-- they wanted. So we went to War, and it no longer mattered what little lie had tipped the scales when years of true resentment had been festering.”

Gendry shakes his head, reeling. “...That Lady Lyanna must _hate_ us.”

Shireen lifts a shoulder and makes a face. “It's... complicated. Her brother –-Arya's father, Lord Eddard-- has always been a good friend of my uncle's. And the Northern Water Tribe liked paying tributes to the Fire Nation no more than we did, and they're grateful now to be free of them. According to Arya, her aunt still didn't want them to come to the tourney. But when I wrote back that I was going to try out, her and Sansa made a pact to try out too, and had Robb –-that's their older brother-- train them instead.”

His head snaps up at the mention of her name. “...You really friends with Arya Stark, then?”

He scowls when she gives him a knowing smile, but to his relief she doesn't take the piss like Lommy would have. “Yes. We've been penpals since we met years ago. Same age, same interests. Her and Sansa didn't get along when they were younger and I don't have any siblings, so it was nice to be able to talk to each other, growing up.”

He nods and then looks away, trying to pretend it was just casual interest.

Part of him had thought he could afford having a girl after winning the tournament. Just in the abstract- he could wank himself just fine and there was nobody he actually fancied. But having the option to; being able to rent a place with privacy, somewhere nice enough to actually bring a girl, had been something he'd thought he'd like.

  
  


And now Arya Stark keeps invading his thoughts: that crook of challenge in her brow, the fluid way she’d moved while Waterbending, that protective outburst when her sister got hit in the ring --and how he'd instinctively reached out to hold her back.

  
  


But if a Northern Water Tribe girl could reject a rich noble like the King, surely he doesn't stand a chance with her at all.

  
  
  


Gods, does it feel good when she smiles at him though.

  
  


It's confusing- half of him is worried she'll manage to beat him in the end and half of him can't wait to see what clever bending tricks she'll pull.

He's relieved when Shireen changes the topic to the tournament, and it's actually interesting to hear Lord Stannis and Shireen enthusiastically take apart the matches move by move too, even if neither of them fly into the same sort of excited rhapsodies with sound effects his friends tend to spiral into. It's more like Lord Stannis is trying to encourage them to think about possible moves and the strengths and weaknesses of each, strategies that employ different parts of the ring.

He supposes it's what having a dad is like, and he has to admit it’s kind of nice.

It helps pass the rest of the trip in less awkward conversation anyway, one Gendry doesn't feel like a total impostor participating in.

Then they get to the Upper Ring, and that feeling comes back with a vengeance.

  
  


The houses are _huge_ , and each one has its own courtyard and garden and often a fountain, spraying clean water about like it's free. The carriage pulls up to the Baratheon's villa in a round driveway- a road just for them.

They're expected to bathe before dressing for the banquet, and Shireen hurries off to her room to do just that.

In the bathroom he's escorted to is an actual bathtub, filling with hot water from a faucet, with different varieties of scented soap waiting by the edge. It's a far cry from the cold bucket showers he's used to, and as ridiculously decadent as he feels sitting in so much hot water, he does his best to scrub himself really clean, so as not to spoil the borrowed robes he's going to be wearing.

The towels next to the bath are soft and plush, and he feels almost guilty using them when they snag on his fingers.

Makes him worry about ruining the smooth silk of the formal robes that Lord Stannis had brusquely presented him.

“ _Actually, these were my brother Renly's- he left them in his wardrobe here. The fashion trend that year was simple cuts and clean lines, and he quickly decided that it wasn't his style. I'm thinking you will prefer these to some of the more embroidered styles.”_

“ _Well...yes, sir, they're very nice, but- Lady Shireen said something about a Ser Davos' robes for being made a lord-”_

“ _Ser Davos? Is that what she said? That happened in Storm's End, hundreds of miles from here. But I suppose Robert's never been one for fine details. And you shouldn't worry about them in this case either- Renly won't miss these and neither will we.”_

He gingerly pulls them on, struggling a little with the yellow frog knot closures. And he's surprised when he looks in the giant mirror- he was expecting the robe to be too short since most things in shops are, but they fit fine- even the sleeves go to his wrists. He tries to straighten his hair a bit, too.

Maybe he isn't a noble, but at least he shouldn't stick out so much at first glance.

He thinks Hot Pie would probably mistake him for one anyway, dressed like this, and he wonders what Arya will think of him in this getup compared to his usual dirty shirt and smithing apron.

He likes how it looks- he's just not sure he recognizes himself.

And he still feels like he's playing pretend when they arrive at the Royal Palace. Shireen looks like a princess in a shimmery yellow gown and Lord Stannis is dressed in yellow silk formal robes.

They pass the Dai Li inspection at the entrance without any issue though, and then Shireen leads the way away from the crowd, down hallways and up staircases until they come to a set of ornate double doors.

They look just like every other set of fancy doors in this place to him, but she pushes inside and heads over to pull the thick curtains over the windows, unveiling a room chock full of shelves of books. There are so many books that the shelves go up above their heads, and there's a ladder to reach them. There's also a table with parchment and ink on it, and a couple of stuffed, comfortable looking chairs in front of a fireplace.

Above the fireplace, there's a huge painting of him Earthbending against Viserys Targaryen in the tournament. The Bender gear on him is too new looking and Viserys' hair has also been painted longer and more romantic-like, but otherwise everything else has been painted with incredible realism, even his own unkempt hair. He can see the scowl of concentration on his face and the bulging strain in his thighs and biceps from bending that big rock to start. He steps closer in awe- he can almost feel how hot the flames were from the way they're painted, smell the dust flying around the ring.

“Is that us from earlier? How'd they manage to paint it so fast?”

It takes him maybe another a second to realize.

And then his mouth just falls open.

_Seven fucking hells. I really do look like him._

* * *

For the first time in her life, Arya is washed and formally dressed early, so she's pacing, impatient to get to the banquet.

Sansa doesn't comment, although her inner amusement is plenty obvious. To Arya's relief though, she just offers to do up her hair in a fancier style to kill time.

Privately, Arya hopes Gendry will think it's pretty.

Once they get to the banquet, she doesn't spot Shireen or Lord Stannis, though their driver and carriage are already there. Margaery Tyrell makes a beeline for them as soon as they arrive too, gushing over their performances in the match before she fixes Sansa with a worried look and places a hand on her arm.

“Oh, but are you sure you're all right? You're not in any pain? I've been so terribly worried...”

Sansa puts her hand over Margaery's and smiles warmly. “I'm perfectly fine- thank you for asking. The bruises are just part of bending, really. I promise, getting hit by ice spikes or one of Arya's ice crusted snowballs is much worse, and I survived those before even getting here.”

Margaery shakes her head, putting one hand over her heart. “You benders are so tough! My heart was just _pounding_ the whole time and I wasn't sure if it was from excitement or horror!”

Sansa bats her eyelashes and sighs dramatically. “All of that only to lose my chance at the grand prize. Well- shall we dull the disappointment with some champagne?”

“ _Splendid_ idea! Lord Eddard, Lady Arya, will you join us for some refreshment?” Lady Margaery says brightly, ever the thoughtful society hostess.

And Arya is rather proud of how deftly she makes excuse, “Ah, I'm still looking for friends of mine- I'm sure we'll be right behind you.”

Her father smiles and inclines his head. “Thank you, Lady Margaery. Please, do go on without us.”

They watch as they head towards the refreshment tables, heads dipped close and arms linked, and he sighs. “I suppose I should have thought more about why she suddenly decided to train for the tournament. The Tyrells are one of the few Earth Kingdom houses that are rich and old enough to flout tradition, if stories about her brother and Renly Baratheon are true.”

Arya shrugs a shoulder. “Sansa's a genius with opportunity. And it was half my idea- I didn't want to be on a team with Ramsey since Jon wasn't going,” she admits.

He regards her with surprise. “...You're learning to play the game after all.”

Arya gives him a warning look and shakes her head. “Just want to be independent. And since that takes _money_ in this wicked world...”

Lord Stark laughs softly and shakes his head. “Well, we'll see if all your scheming nets you the prize tomorrow. There's some stiff competition.”

Arya follows his gaze to Daenerys Targaryen, resplendent in a violet gown that brings out the color of her eyes. “Agreed. But I have faith in myself. And I can always earn a boat by shares, if it comes down to it.”

She scans the crowd again, and straightens with surprise when she sees them enter.

Shireen is dressed in a yellow gown with pretty diaphanous layers and her hand is on Gendry's arm as they walk in ahead of Lord Stannis.

Gendry looks absolutely wonderful- tall and strong and handsome, his eyes somehow even brighter blue in the contrast to the black silk robes he's wearing. She knows it's ridiculous –-Shireen's her friend; they're probably cousins-- but her heart twists with envy for a moment.

They've caused a stir too- there's a wave of delighted whispers.

“Is that really- No!”

“The very _picture_ of Robert in his prime-”

“The she-lion is going to have to act before her cubs lose their place-”

“Like a rougher version of Renly, isn't he?”

“Baratheon bender or not, that disfigured waif should _not_ be on the arm of such a handsome brute- even if he _is_ common.”

The last comment has Arya's cheeks flushing with anger, and she tugs her father's arm urgently even as Shireen spots them and gives her one of her bravely determined smiles. “They're here. Shall we go greet them?”

“You're going to try to beat the sharks to the chum?”

“I'm trying to give the chum a lifeline.”

He sighs, giving her a resigned shake of his head. But he leads her through the crowd towards them anyway.

There are already a couple of simpering ladies speaking to Lord Stannis when they arrive. “Such an unexpected pleasure, Lord Stannis. Is it true that your guest is a smith? Such a ... _quaint_ occupation.”

“Yes. I'm sure Gendry's rather more used to an honest day's work than most here,” he replies, looking away as if bored.

Arya chortles even as the society hags pretend to laugh, and then Father speaks even as he squeezes her hand in warning.

“Lord Stannis, Lady Shireen- forgive the intrusion. Arya here was hoping to greet her fellow competitors.”

Lord Stannis dips his head and Shireen curtsies automatically, and Gendry blinks and hastily lowers his head even as Lord Stannis speaks. “Lord Stark, Lady Arya. No intrusion at all; I'm sure these ladies have the confirmation they were fishing for.”

One of them gives a outraged gasp but the other simply plasters a smile on and pretends to raise a hand in greeting to somebody else. “Ah, if you'll just excuse us, Lord Stannis. Lord Stark.”

He gestures curtly before turning back to her and her father, and Arya quickly revises her estimation of Lord Stannis. She'd always found him rather serious and dour, and had often wondered how Shireen could have such grim parents when she was so sweet and thoughtful. She'd never realized he didn't have any patience for The Great Game of politics and information gathering and favors either when he'd certainly taught Shireen how to play it well enough. “You look very nice- always liked that watercolor dye technique of your artisans. This is Gendry, the other Earthbender from the tournament. Gendry, Lord Eddard Stark from the Northern Water Tribe.”

Her father gives Gendry a polite bow, and Gendry's eyes go wide with surprise before he bows back. “An impressive performance from you today, young man. It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes, m'lord. Thank you, m'lord,” he says, before giving Arya a nervous glance.

Lord Stannis sighs as if harried and addresses Lord Stark. “Doesn't Robert usually prefer these things later?”

“The banquets are held earlier than the norm so competitors can be properly rested, Father,” Shireen says. “I'm actually rather famished- didn't eat before the matches so I wouldn't be sick in the ring.”

Gendry and Arya both reply instantly. “Me too.”

They all laugh and even Lord Stannis has to smile. “Well, Ned. Shall we find something to feed our deprived young folk, then?”

“The canapés are this way, I believe. Shireen, Gendry: you'll keep Arya out of trouble?”

Shireen smiles cheekily. “There's evidence to the contrary, but we will endeavor to do our best.”

Arya’s mouth drops. “...That was one time!” she protests.

Lord Stark chuckles and then takes his leave with Lord Stannis.

Arya turns to Gendry, wishing her cheeks weren't so warm. “You look really nice. Black's a good color on you.”

He fidgets with the collar, but he looks pleased, from the way he flushes too. “Thanks. Just hope I don't ruin it somehow. What happened that one time?”

Arya sighs. “Some pudding hit Sansa during a banquet when I was demonstrating something for Shireen.”

“Right on the cheek. Perfect shot. Sansa was _furious,_ ” Shireen relays with a relish.

Arya realizes she never told Shireen what happened after. “You know what she did for revenge? Bent _just a little bit_ of water into my winter underwear for a week so they were whiffy and mold-stained by the time I went to get them out.”

Gendry frowns. “You sure it was her? Maybe there was a leak or something.”

“She fessed up years later. But because Mother thought I hadn't dried them properly, I got punished for being careless with my things, too.”

“Devious double punishments. Very Sansa.” Her eyes widen a second before they are ambushed by different nobles. “Oh! Lord and Lady Beifong! How are you doing this evening?”

“Lady Shireen, Lady Arya, we're very well, thank you. Is this Gendry from today's tournament? I've been hoping to speak to you about joining our Gate bender team, or perhaps Trolleys and Transport,” Lord Beifong says eagerly.

The next hour is more of the same- making introductions on Gendry's behalf, parrying snide comments and helping give vague answers to the ruder probing questions. But at least they get to stuff themselves with snacks and chat a little in between.

Arya thinks Gendry's handling all the attention pretty well, considering. He leaves as much of the talking to the two of them as he can, quietly accepting congratulations and well-wishes and answering queries in a straightforward way when pressed. (“Not really interested- already got a craft.” “Lots of folks with black hair and blue eyes.” “Just met them today. Met lots of folks.”)

Lord Tywin's tense, thin lipped greeting and Margaery Tyrell mistaking Gendry for Renly are probably the most awkward parts of cocktail hour, and then most of the pressure to socialize eases as they sit to banquet.

Gendry doesn't drink much wine, mostly trying out the various fruit juices- Arya particularly enjoys his wide-eyed discovery of mango. He cautiously follows their cues for which fork to use with each course and finishes everything on his plates, rarely speaking unless spoken to. He seems to enjoy their wandering conversation though, if the avid, thoughtful way he watches them speak and his occasional grins are anything to go by.

By the time dessert is served, Arya thinks he's enjoyed himself and the food, anyway.

Afterwards, Shireen turns to whisper in Arya's ear.

“How about you show Gendry the gardens when you're done eating? I don't think he'll like running the after-dinner social gauntlet again, and Father and I need to do the obligatory family greeting.”

Arya blinks with surprise and gives her a grateful smile, wishing she had some of Sansa's cool assuredness when Gendry nods eagerly at her suggestion.

Maybe he just wants fresh air and a stroll after all that food, but the way his eyes light up makes her both nervous and happy all at once.

She's never liked a boy like this. And despite how distracting her jangling nerves are, it's nice to be walking alone with Gendry into the lowered light and hush of the gardens after so much studied politeness.

“...Sorry I never called you Lady Arya before- didn't know Water Tribes had ladies and lords.”

Arya blinks. “What? Oh. We aren't as formal with titles up North, and it's really my father's title, not mine.” She pauses, giving him a horrified look. “Please don't call me lady.”

“...You act like it's an insult,” Gendry says, frowning.

Arya shakes her head restlessly as they walk past carefully pruned bushes and flowering vines coaxed around archways. The moon is visible now, and she can feel the rising power of her bending in response.“It's not that exactly. It just doesn't suit me, is all. I don't want to hold land and manage tenants and rents- I want to own a ship and use it to travel and trade and fish.”

“Is that what you planned to do with the prize money?”

Arya smiles, glancing up at him. “...Until I saw your steel.”

He grins back, holding her gaze with an intensity that makes her heart start racing again. She swallows, trying to remember what they were talking about. “...How about you? I mean, what did you want to do with the prize money?”

Gendry flushes and shrugs before he tilts his head. “...Rent a place in the Middle Ring, I suppose. Maybe open my own shop. Never thought about anything outside of Ba Sing Se before, and barely know about anything but the Outer Ring.”

Arya nods. “Makes sense. Your city is _huge_. With the same population and resources as whole countries- you have so many things here that aren't in the rest of the Earth Kingdom.”

Gendry sighs heavily, looking out into the garden. Hard to believe they're ensconced in the middle of a city here- it smells of verdant greenery and the insects are louder than the sound of music and chatter drifting from the palace. “Lots of walls and rules too. Would be nice to see those places you all were talking about. See where Mott came from.”

Arya gives him a bemused smile. “Yeah? You think so?”

Gendry's brow furrows. “Why not?”

“Just- it's _water_ that's the element of change. Waterbenders are flexible; adaptable. Earthbending is almost the opposite- you guys smash your way through your problems or you stay stubbornly rooted and make the other person go around. But here you are talking about taking off traveling. After a single crazy day.”

Gendry raises his brows. “I'm a Metalbender too. Like I told you before: good steel isn't just hard. It needs to be flexible too.”

She stops and smiles. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

There's a sublime sense of total accord as they look at each other, the air between them charged with possibility. She wonders if he's about to reach out and kiss her.

But then he gulps and looks away, hands clenched.

And she looks away too, feeling like she clumsily let the moment slip away.

They walk further into the gardens in silence, passing lanterns and sweet little alcoves with benches that are probably meant for couples. And she glances at him again, wishing she could ease this new awkwardness somehow. “...Well, whatever happens tomorrow, I'd like us to be friends,” she offers.

Gendry stops and scoffs, shaking his head. “....Friends, huh?”

Arya licks her lips, hesitating. With the moon overhead, she can feel all the water in the plants around them and pulsing in their bodies. So strange to feel almost unstoppable, and yet so unsure of herself. Gendry looks dejected, almost angry, and that's not what she wants at all. So she just acts, stepping into his space, pulling his head down and pressing her lips to his.

He stiffens with surprise for only an instant before he tentatively kisses her back.

She steps back a little and swallows, looking up at him.

And he gives her a wondrous smile as he studies her face, breathing hard, before gently cupping her face and bending to kiss her again.

All the doubts, the tournament worries and wondering about Shireen's proof vanish from her mind completely. He tastes so good and smells so right and the way he's holding her close against his body feels amazing.

She doesn't know how long they kiss each other, but she's breathless and pulsingly warm all over when she finally pulls away.

“...Yeah. _Good_ friends,” she manages, and the smug way he laughs gives her a thrill this time.

“...You kiss all your friends like that, Arya Stark?”

She smiles, feeling wickedly confident again. “No. But I want to keep doing it with you.”

He nods and bends to kiss her again, and she slides her fingers into his hair and just revels in how good kissing him feels.

For all of about a minute, before the sound of rustling leaves and a breathless voice intrude.

“...But surely we'll be seen! Anybody wandering the gardens will be able to- oh!”

Gendry and Arya spring apart, and Arya's sure that the moonlight is bright enough to show how furiously she's blushing. It's totally obvious what they've been doing.

It's the King and one of the serving girls, who's hurriedly lowering her skirts and fixing her bosom. He peers at them owlishly. “Renly? What in blazes-”

He stops when he realizes his mistake. “...Ah. Gendry, isn't it? Had a bit too much wine already, and you look... You remind me of my brother.”

Gendry dips his head hastily. “Lord Stannis lent me his robes, Your Grace. Said he wouldn't mind.”

Arya grips Gendry's arm and curtsies. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty. We'll just be heading back.”

And she quickly leads Gendry back through the paths, towards the music and lights.

Of all the people to bump into in the gardens. Gendry looks disgusted by what they've just seen, and Arya can hardly blame him. Would have been easier to deal with learning about him after the tournament, instead of all at once.

Neither of them realize the king is staring after them, as if he's caught in a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for any sort of feedback in advance- the response to this fic has been just amazing! Special thanks to lyrawhite for being my #1 cheerleader through this whole thing! <3 Last chapter should be up soon!
> 
> ETA: Made [a promo GIFset](https://nrgburst.tumblr.com/post/619370382304182272/bend-it-or-game-of-thrones-x-avatar-the-last) for this chapter on tumblr!


	3. Break)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again if your fave doesn't win their match(es)!

by [@captainironnerd](https://captainironnerd.tumblr.com/)

For a moment after he wakes up, Gendry wonders why he's not hungry and sleepily tries to review what orders he'll have to work on today.

Then he remembers, and his eyes snap open.

The tournament. Shireen and Lord Stannis and that painting. The banquet and kissing Arya Stark. Then seeing the King –-his father-- groping one of his serving girls. Seeing Mott's jaw drop when he got out of the carriage.

Lommy and Hot Pie are never going to believe all the crazy stuff that happened after the tournament. He can hardly believe he hadn't just dreamed it all, but his hair is still soft and clean from the fancy bath he'd had.

And he's got bending matches all over again, except this time they'll be harder.

He's going to have to fight Shireen, who's one of the nicest people he's ever met, as well as a powerhouse of a bender.

Plus she's his cousin, which he still can't really wrap his head around, especially because she seems _determined_ to be. Doesn't care about the fact that he's a bastard, that his mum probably took money before lifting her skirts, that he's an Outer Ring commoner that she barely knows.

Lord Stannis, too. _“Robert's coin went further in the Outer Ring when he was a young man- years before he was crowned king. Should have thought to look.”_

In fact, they both seem worried about his safety and comfort more than anything.

He doesn't know what to do about that, especially after seeing how extravagantly nobles live. Maybe living in the Outer Ring seems horrible to them, but he's used to this.

And then there's Arya.

Just thinking of her makes him smile- she's beautiful, talented, _smart_. And she likes him back the same way, which makes him the luckiest bastard in Ba Sing Se. He keeps recalling how good it felt to kiss her, to hold her close and feel her hands on him. Picturing that quick, wicked smile and the irrepressible spirit she approaches everything with.

He can't wait to see her again. And he doesn't want to just be her penpal when the Northern Water Tribe goes home.

He doubts Lord Stark would consider hiring a blacksmith if he knew how much that blacksmith wanted to keep kissing his daughter. And he's never left the city before, but he's sure travelling takes money. He's got a little saved, but he doubts it's enough to go very far.

He'd make enough, probably, working for the city. But he'd turned down Lord Beifong because raising gates and pushing trains and cargo containers sounds boring, and he'd miss forging things.

And the subsidized flat in the Middle Ring and cushy city salary would still keep him here in Ba Sing Se.

Hot Pie and Lommy would have gone for it, for sure. Slow and steady wins the race, plenty of other rocks in the quarry and all that.

But he's never felt like this about anyone. And now he's aware of the world outside the walls.

It's hard to want to settle after the tantalizing images Arya and Shireen have planted in his mind: direwolves that stand as tall as ostrich horses, the thrill of hunting in weather cold enough to see your breath, seeing auroras dance in the sky and snow falling. Sailing under a giant stone Titan and seeing islands and canals. The ferocious storms of Shipbreaker Bay and the never conquered castle there, built by a Baratheon who refused to give up the woman he loved.

Fastest way to reach all that is to win the tournament, so he hauls himself out of bed.

Getting back to the stadium is a blur, and he's quiet as Lommy and Hot Pie blather on excitedly while they take the rail just like yesterday. Someone asks him to sign their Tournament poster, and he nods mechanically when Lommy details possible ways to fight Shireen.

He keeps his mouth shut about the King Robert thing and Arya, and he's never had to do that with his friends before. Funny to feel so different just because of what's in his head now. But he finally speaks when they walk with him up to the stadium entrance.

“Hey- I don't know if there will be fancy stuff after again,” he starts, and Lommy and Hot Pie just nod knowingly, like they're experts after yesterday.

“Yeah, no, we figured. Just win this for Ba Sing Se, yeah?”

“Yeah! We'll try to start that name chant again!”

Gendry huffs a laugh, both embarrassed and pleased- his friends are good guys. “...Thanks. I'll see you later, then.”

The stadium staff escort him past the crowds to the front again, just like yesterday, although they're noticeably more friendly today.

The others are all stretching in the warm up area this time, but he's only got eyes for Arya. He wishes that the last part of the evening hadn't been so weird and awkward before Lord Stannis had hurried him and Shireen off into the carriage, but she looks as glad to see him as he is to see her.

“Morning,” she says a little breathlessly, and he can't stop grinning back like a fool.

“...Morning. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” she says, though her cheeks go red. “You look nice too.”

He doesn't get why she'd think so because he's just in his old Earthbending gear, but it pleases him all the same. 

Shireen looks between the two of them with an amused smile before she tilts her head and waves. “Good morning to you too, Gendry. Sorry Father was in such a rush last night. He had words with the Queen,” she explains softly, and Gendry turns to her.

“Yeah, no, don't worry about it. Just glad I could go. Thanks for doing all that,” he says, and she gives him a bemused look.

“Of course.” She pauses and considers. “...I mean, you'll go easy on me, then?” she says teasingly.

He snorts. “'Cause _you'd_ go easy on _me_?”

She gives him a smug little smile. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Thought so. Stubborn lot, Baratheons,” he says, and she grins.

“...They certainly are.”

Daenerys approaches the three of them rather warily. “Lady Shireen, Gendry, Lady Arya. I look forward to the matches today,” she says with careful formality. Arya turns to her with a smile and nods earnestly. There's a hopeful expression on her face that Gendry can't quite understand.

“I do, too.” Arya pauses and says the next phrase softly and carefully. “...After all, you rise with the sun.”

Daenerys truly smiles then, obviously surprised and yet delighted. She looks like she might cry for a second, though Gendry can't guess why. “...And _you_ rise with the moon,” she replies, before glancing at the sky, “thus we will be more equally matched.”

Gendry follows her gaze to the white shape of moon in the sky above the stadium, but it's not odd to see it on mornings after the full moon.

Daenerys takes a shaky breath and looks over at the guards before leaning in and lowering her voice to a whisper. “...Is he a Firebender?”

Arya gives her head a slight shake. “Waterbender. But he can bend water to boiling, which none of us can do.”

Daenerys nods stiffly and swallows, as if keeping herself carefully composed. “...Can we speak later? I'd- I'd like to know more about him, if that's all right.”

Arya smiles, although her eyes are shining with what looks like tears. “...I'd like that, too.”

Daenerys dips her head in acknowledgment, then retreats back to the mats to continue her warm up exercises. Shireen looks thoughtful before she goes over to the mats to warm up again too, as if keeping Daenerys company.

Gendry looks back at Arya with confusion, but she smiles dismissively and shakes her head. “Family thing,” she says, before sighing shakily and giving him a wan smile. “...I'm just... really glad I decided to compete in this tournament. No matter what happens today.”

He smiles back warmly, remembering her words from last night. “I am too.”

She looks up at him with a hopeful smile and he wants to kiss her all over again.

But then trumpets announce the arrival of the King, and they all hastily stand at attention.

There's much less delay until the start of the matches this time- the Royal Family simply proceeds directly to the Royal Box, and then Lord Tywin makes an announcement about the order of the matches. Even while he's speaking the officials are beckoning Arya and Daenerys to wait to enter the ring, and Gendry doesn't have a chance to say anything else to her before she's walking away.

He feels strange sitting next to Shireen to watch the match, the staging area oddly empty with just the two of them.

Both Arya and Daenerys assume the same starting positions they used the previous day, and tension seems to crackle between them in the ring as they wait, both of them focused and ready to bend.

The gong sounds and Daenerys immediately sends herself into a spinning kick so that two fireballs in quick succession go scorching across the ring.

They hit the whip of water Arya's drawn up before she grabs pieces out of it and hurls slushballs back at her.

They circle the ring, sending out a steady barrage of blast and flame, ice discs and slushballs. Daenerys carefully avoids the grates unless she's blasting over them with fire so Arya can't trap her like she did Robin Arryn. Arya just rolls with the hits whenever Daenerys manages to get a blast through her defenses and Daenerys does the same, refusing to let any strikes distract her from her next form.

It looks like it's going to be a war of attrition, where they wait to see who drops of exhaustion first, until Gendry spots Arya's fingers wiggling behind her even though her other hand is sending off globs of water from the whip, like Sansa had first used. They're more blinding distraction than painful, and most Daenerys just shakes off her face.

Arya's making a gathering motion with her hand, and he doesn't understand why until he realizes why she's switched to water over ice or slush, which hit harder.

She's been slowly soaking Daenerys, holding the water in her hair and clothes.

And she strikes when Daenerys does a form where she puts her wrists close together to form a triangle, drawing the water into a rope that coils around her lower arms and then freezes.

They both stagger to a stop, panting. Arya's arrested her bending by immobilizing her hands.

Well, she would have if Daenerys were a Waterbender.

Arya waits for the gong and frowns, obviously puzzled. And in the meantime, Daenerys is taking deep breaths, her face going red.

“Oh gods,” Shireen gasps, “she's going to do Dragon's Breath and melt it.”

Arya's eyes widen as if she's just realized the same thing and she looks up at the moon and her expression goes serene, almost tranquil.

Then she pulls her hands behind her head and heaves up and out.

Daenerys shouts, blasting fire out of her mouth at her wrists.

But the enormous wave Arya has pulled up from the canals washes her out of the ring an instant later.

Gendry knows he's standing up and gaping like an idiot, but _holy shit_.

Shireen's got both hands clapped over her mouth, and she jumps up to screech, “Yes!” at the same time the rest of the stadium is losing its mind. King Robert is shouting in the Royal Box. “Did you see that? _Did you see that? What a bender!_ ”

The gong finally sounds. Arya's going to be one of the finalists.

The ring isn't actually damaged either- just drenched. So there's only a short pause as the stadium staff rush out to dry it while Daenerys walks back, wringing her hair, and Arya hurries to join her, obviously offering some kind words about the match. Seems like she makes friends with everybody, even Fire Nation princesses.

They're both smiling by the time they've reached the staging area, and then Arya gives both Shireen and Gendry an embarrassed smile where they're waiting by the entrance. “I want both of you to win, and I don't think that's possible.”

Shireen tilts her head back at Gendry. “Loser gets ice cream from the winner?”

Gendry gives her a smile. She really is sweet, trying to keep this fun and lighthearted, although she's got to be as nervous as he is. “Deal.”

She nods, and then they walk out while the audience raucously cheers their arrival. Some of them are waving signs. He spots Hot Pie and Lommy jumping and hollering and he gives them a wave.

This is the match most Ba Sing Se residents will be able to recognize and name moves for; that the Earthbenders in the crowd can follow with their own bending senses; that will probably have lots of gloriously loud smashing and crashing.

Gendry half wonders if there will be a ring left as he looks at Shireen across from him in bender stance, jaw set with determination.

Neither moves when the gong rings, simply rooted in the Earth, waiting for the other to shift something first.

The noise level drops to almost nothing as everybody breathlessly waits for that explosive first clash.

Gendry knows this could be a long battle- Shireen's got power and control to spare. But she has to know that physically, he's got to have more endurance. So she'll probably try to end this before she starts to tire- he just doesn't know how.

Shireen puts one of her hands behind her back and he frowns when he feels almost a tickle- she's bending some of the smaller pieces in the cracks, gathering pebbles and chips, and he's pretty sure she's going to try something sneaky.

So he stamps and hurls a brick at her to distract her.

Shireen counters one-handed, flicking a pillar up to intercept it, then she brings her other hand up and makes a pinching motion.

He blinks with surprise when something grabs the back of his uniform and yanks him backwards.

He grabs at whatever it is reflexively, but he can't reach it, so he bends up a brick behind him with a punch.

It smashes into the rough stone pincer she's fashioned and then he shoves down the brick she's raised to try to trip him.

And she said _Sansa_ was devious.

He grins despite himself and sends a cascading ripple through the bricks with his heel in turn, then follows it with the big starter brick.

She stamps her foot to flatten the first, and hurls her own starter brick to collide with his with a resounding crack.

Then she follows it up by flicking her hand diagonally to send a pillar towards his stomach, but he counters with his own before it hits. Same with raising walls and trying to batter or trick the other with sliding bricks- everything she does, he senses and counters, and vice versa.

It's not long before the ring is pitted with great gouges and strewn with smashed pieces of rock. Gendry's not tired yet –-actually fun being able to trade blows with somebody like this-- but since everything Earthbending related she can counter, he should try a physical attack. So he changes tactics and runs at her like a bull, keeping one hand ready to bend aside any new obstacle.

She squeaks with surprise and bends herself some makeshift rock armor from the shattered pieces in the ring and rolls away inside it before he can get close.

He stumbles to a halt, panting. There's no way he can catch her on foot now-- but the shape she's taken has given him an idea.

So when she rolls over a grate, he Metalbends it, flipping the end up and tossing her from the ring.

Her rock ball hits the ground outside the ring, and Gendry assumes the gong sounds. He can't actually hear it over the incredulous noise from the crowd and he winces when he sees the King standing up in the Royal Box and staring.

_Aw, shit._

Shireen's unhurt- she lets the ball fall back to pieces around her, chortling with laughter. “Haven't been thrown since I was a toddler- that was _such fun_!” she shouts.

Gendry goes to help her up. “I think the King noticed the Metalbending,” he says urgently.

Shireen sighs and makes a face. “Well, he was bound to realize sometime. At least now we're ready.”

Gendry blinks. “...We are?”

There's a grim steeliness to the way Shireen nods, but she doesn't say anything else.

There's obviously going to be a longer delay to fix the ring, and they head back to the staging area even as Earthbender staff and the badger mole start sweeping up rock and bending new bricks into the ring behind them.

Going up against Arya is going to be an even bigger challenge, especially right after facing Shireen. But even as he's thinking through strategies, like hunkering down in rock armor if she tries that big wave thing again, he can't help but notice the turmoil in the Royal Box.

The Queen is standing in front of her children and making some kind of furious declaration they only catch the tail end of: “....some _dirty commoner_ over _our_ sons, _I won't stand for it!_ ” while Lord Tywin is watching with a cold, bitter expression, his fingers steepled.

“It was an off-hand comment, woman! Calm your tits, already!” the King roars.

Lord Tywin makes a cutting gesture at the Queen and stabs his finger towards her seat, and despite looking ready to spit nails, she swallows whatever else she was going to scream and stalks back to her seat, stiff and dignified.

“We are at a _public_ event. I _trust_ you have now regained some sense of your station and the optics? I'm sure all of this can be resolved in private to _all_ of our satisfaction. _Later._ There is, after all, only one more match,” Lord Tywin snaps, derisive and commanding.

The Queen shakes her head, lip curling. “Of course. It was _my_ words that were inappropriate,” she says acidly. But she simply picks up her wine goblet and sips. King Robert is also brooding next to her. He's sitting up tall and straight instead of hunched over as usual, frowning like he's thinking hard, his wine forgotten on the table next to him.

Gendry looks away when he catches his eye for a second as they walk past- the stunned realization in his eyes makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't want the King knowing any more than Queen Cersei, and he has no idea what anybody's going to do.

The waiting for it to happen makes it all the worse, he thinks. But like everything else, he can't actually _do_ anything while the nobles play their games.

Everybody in the staging area either stares at him when they return or pretends to be busy doing something else. Shireen walks off to look up at the Nobles section for some reason and Daenerys regards him with horror before deliberately staring straight ahead. So he goes to sit with Arya, swallowing when she turns to him, eyes worried.

“...What happened over there?” he asks quietly.

“I didn't hear what he said- for once he didn't shout. But whatever it was must have been... troubling. He didn't make a formal declaration though, so... try not to worry.”

She gives him a rueful smile.

Gendry restlessly rakes a hand through his hair. “She had me matched every other way and I finally saw an opening. Just did it. Wasn't _thinking._ ”

Arya's eyes spark defensively. “It's not your fault- bending battles require split second decisions! Shireen has a plan, I think. Just... let's focus on bending and try to forget about that for a few minutes.”

Gendry scoffs. “Look at you trying to make me feel better when _you're_ my opponent.”

She tilts her head, smirking. “Well, it's what I do with all my friends, so get used to it.”

He gives her a speculative look. Shireen had the right idea, trying to take the sting out of losing. And since the stakes this round are higher... “...Take me on a trip on your boat if you win?”

Her eyes light up and she smiles. “...Only if you give me those blades if _you_ win.”

He grins. “Deal.”

And he has to admit he actually feels less anxious when they're called to enter the ring for the last time.

Still feels surreal though, facing Arya as she takes her stance and he lowers into his. Just hours ago they were kissing in the moonlight, and now there's thousands of people watching them about to fight each other. 

As soon as the gong sounds, she yanks water up protectively, splashing and flooding the ground before she turns what's under her to ice.

She wants a surface she can trust standing on- smart. But he's still got control of the rock underneath, so he stamps his heel to send a cascade ripple through it.

It's sluggish --the ice is like cement, holding the bricks in place-- but he manages to crack it apart a bit, only to blink and scowl when he realizes she's started to flood the section he's in.

He immediately raises himself on a pillar and hurls a couple bricks towards her to distract her. She's probably trying to freeze and numb his bare feet to immobilize his lower half- quickest way to secure the win against an Earthbender. But damned if he's going to let her win that easily.

She dodges them easily and then hurls a couple snowballs in return.

She's grinning at him cheekily, and he shakes his head and smiles back before he shatters the layer of ice completely with a crack of his shoulders, stamping to bring a pillar up under her feet the way Shireen did with Yara Greyjoy.

The crowd gives a collective “ooh!” when Arya twists with the momentum in midair and lands back on her feet in the ring, before smoothly drawing water into a wave in the same circular motion and hurling it at him.

_Damn._ He had no idea she could move like that, and he only has enough time to yank up a wall so the wave smashes against it instead of him.

She can't see him behind the wall, but he can feel her walking on the bricks. So he twists with his hands and pulls downwards, sinking them under her feet to capture her the same way she was trying to grab him earlier.

He hears her squawk an indignant “What the-?!” but he's not sunk her deep enough before she's extricating herself with water, pulling apart the rock and buoying herself out of reach.

He lowers the wall to see where she is, and has to dodge a slushball before sending a diagonal slice of a pillar to knock her off the low wave she's surfing away from him.

That sends her tumbling off the wave with a cry of pain, and his stomach clenches guiltily for a second before he bends the grate she's on to tip her out of the ring while she's sprawled there, staring up at the sky.

And then he doesn't know what happens- Arya's still on the ground, but her face is horribly blank, her hands are raised towards him _and he can't move._

Gendry grunts and struggles, trying to bend, trying to Just. Bring. The Grate. Up.

But it's like his body is frozen. There's no ice or water on him though, he doesn't understand how she's-

Arya blinks and her eyes widen with horror an instant later and she drops her hands.

And suddenly able to move and bend again all at once, Gendry wraps her in the grate instead, the metal screaming in protest at being bent so quickly but still pulling her upright and pinning her arms to her sides.

He's still panting and staring at her in disbelief when the gong sounds for the last time. The roar of the crowd is almost as loud as the roaring in his ears and Arya is standing and staring at him guiltily, wrapped in metal like a human spring roll.

He won. But he shouldn't have. _What the hell was that?_

Gendry hurries over to her, unwrapping the grate from around her with a stretch of his hands and reaching to help her out. “How did you do that? There wasn't any water on me anywhere!”

“...Your body is mostly water, too,” she explains apologetically.

It takes him a second to understand. “...You- you bent _my body?_ ”

Arya looks up at him apologetically. “Can only Bloodbend because I could draw on the moon, and I only did it because I panicked. I'm sorry- I stopped as soon as I realized.”

Gendry frowns, thinking. “.... _You_ should have won then! I couldn't move. That's the rules!”

Arya shakes her head in furious denial. “Don't be stupid! It's practically cheating! I only learned it because one of the House of Black and White used it on me when I was in Braavos. Won't find Bloodbending recognized in any Waterbending scrolls or tourney rules, whereas Metalbending definitely is- the gong went for you, didn't it?”

Gendry scoffs. “Bet they only put that rule in there for Baratheons. It's not _right,_ Arya!”

Lord Tywin and King Robert are already walking out towards the ring, carrying the Winners Belt, and he can't believe she's actually _arguing_ with him about this.

She huffs, exasperated, and grips his arm urgently. “ _Gendry._ It doesn't matter. I told you- I'm flexible. And you need this a lot more than I do.”

“Yeah? You going to magic yourself a boat, then?”

“Well-!” She stops speechless, at a loss for once.

But only for a second before she smiles up at him tentatively. “...Wouldn't mind buying it on shares with a friend.”

The warm relief that floods him makes him smile, as if everything has suddenly fallen into place. “...Yeah?”

She smiles up at him and nods, and he doesn't even care that all of Ba Sing Se is watching- he just bends to kiss her.

“ _Ahem.”_

Lord Tywin gives them both a reproving look, and Arya pulls back and curtsies apologetically but Gendry's too elated to care, and from all the encouraging hoots, the audience doesn't mind either. The King looks shaken, like he's seen a ghost, but he holds up the Winner's Belt and bellows,

“The Champion of the 73rd Great Benders Tournament is... _Gendry of Ba Sing Se_!”

Gendry thought they were loud before, but the noise the people make when he raises his hand seems to shake the whole stadium.

⁖

He'd hoped the rest of it would be forgotten, but Lord Stannis is waiting with Shireen in the staging area when they return. King Robert strides over as soon as he sees him, nodding to himself.

“Stannis! Just the man I wanted to see! You knew about this boy, didn't you? Took him to the banquet in the Baratheon carriage. Gave him Renly's robes.”

Lord Stannis nods seriously. “I did. You see, I believe he's my son.”

Lord Tywin's eyes look like they're about to pop out of his head. “I- _I beg your pardon._ ”

Stannis scoffs and shakes his head at Robert. “...You think you're the only man who's had a woman that isn't his wife? Well, I admit it. And now I'll see duty and justice done. The boy deserves what's rightfully his, and he's obviously of Baratheon blood. Shireen used to beg us for a sibling. Now she can finally have one.”

They're all staring at Lord Stannis in shock, except Shireen, who is standing next to her father, chin proudly raised. Gendry knows his mouth is hanging open, but he didn't expect this at all.

King Robert looks flushed, his hair and beard long and unkempt, his mouth working as he scrambles. But he gives Lord Stannis a long look filled with regretful understanding before he bows his head as if ashamed and swallows. “...Good. Good. Yes, of course. By rights. Duty and Justice. You'll... you'll see it done, brother?”

Gendry suddenly feels sorry for the king. But he's also relieved that he doesn't ever have to call him his father.

Lord Stannis bows low. “Upon my honor as a Baratheon.”

⁖ Epilogue⁖

Arya's makes her way unerringly towards the Street of Steel after waving goodbye to Hot Pie, holding a bag of buns that are still warm from the oven.

She likes to visit Gendry around tea time- he'd just keep working otherwise, despite the abrupt change in his station. Once he gets started on a project, he just likes to see it through to the end.

Stubborn as any Baratheon, after all.

Nothing much has changed here, the smell or the crowds, but Arya prefers it now to the Upper Ring which is still viciously abuzz with the scandal:

Stolid Lord Stannis admitted he'd knocked up some common serving girl in his youth, leaving his son to grow up in poverty and filth. That boy was found by his sister and father before winning the Great Benders Tournament and kissing a Stark girl right in the ring.

That's the official story anyway- enough to keep Lannister claws retracted. They're leaving town as soon as Gendry finishes Lord Tywin's order though- no need to tempt fate.

It'll be a relief to finally escape this place, to meet with the Targaryens and speak freely of Jon, and then continuing on to Highgarden and Storm's End before making the final leg home. She can't wait to see Gendry's face when he sees snow; to introduce him to Nymeria and everybody else she loves. 

Arya's always liked travelling, especially in the company of friends. And while their route home has become longer and their group bigger than any of them had expected --Margaery Tyrell is coming along as their guest, and Shireen and Lord Stannis and their entourage are joining the Northern Water Tribe for the journey as well-- Arya suspects it'll be even more fun this way.

Officially, they're going to introduce Gendry to his Uncle Renly, who already happens to be at Highgarden with his “good friend” Loras Tyrell. Her father also wants to make official overtures to the Tyrells, in case Sansa and Margaery decide to make things more permanent.

They're also going to see about commissioning a boat out of Storm's End. Arya's more used to Northern builds, but Shireen and Lord Stannis want her and Gendry to see their local lumber and shipyards first, while enjoying the hospitality of the Baratheon ancestral home.

The shopping is always good in the Earth Kingdom, after all.

Gendry looks up from the forge and smiles when he sees her. Despite his lofty new last name, he's covered in coal dust and sweat, and he's wearing a dirty smith's apron.

Her heart skips faster out of sheer gladness to see him.

Some people are worth all the trouble in Ba Sing Se.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to lyrawhite for being such an amazing friend. So, so happy I could write this for you! 
> 
> Thanks also to Debate, randifrnZ, lightningshrike, loulounana, FuilAlbannach, insanesanity24 and mica for your wonderful comments through the course of this fic!
> 
> AND special thanks to captainironnerd for drawing [this amaaazing fanart of Earthbender Gendry vs. Waterbender Arya](https://nrgburst.tumblr.com/post/620056967821590528/bend-it-or-break-chp-33-5379-words-t-just) for me! I legit squealed when I saw it- please, please check her out on tumblr!
> 
>   
> I hinted at it in the title(s) but did anybody guess that Stannis was my stealth MVP? His temperament is so much like Gendry's, IMO, and with a hard canon reset, I think his iron sense of justice and duty would prevail in his choices over “the life of one bastard boy”. Others may have judged Robert the “true steel” of the Baratheon boys, but it always struck me that Stannis was far more reliable and ready to listen to counsel, and not as brittle and breakable as advertised. Also his relationship with Shireen in GoT just warmed my heart so UNTIL THAT ENDING so I wanted a chance to fix it, if only in fic.
> 
> Any feedback is always welcome. Thank you for reading my story! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This should be a two-shot if all goes as planned! Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked the fic thus far! Or ya know, if you have THOUGHTS about where this is all going. :DDDD
> 
> Also made [a promo edit](https://nrgburst.tumblr.com/post/617181129079947264/water-earth-fire-air-bend-it-6449-words-t) if you are on tumblr.


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